C!/VL (]>f/\f\AD[;S 

flPERAS 



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\Wifi~ 

SOCIAL CHARADES, 



AND 



PARLOR OPERAS. 



BY 

M. T. CALDOR. 



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BOSTON : 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS- 

NEW YORK : 

LEE, SQEPARD, AND DILLINGHAM:. 

1873. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

By LEE & SHEPARD, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Electrotyped and Printed by 
Alfred Mudge & Son, 34 School Street. 



CONTENTS. 



Pagb 

Opera, — College Ned 7 

" diamonds and toads 31 

Charade. — Accelerate 51 

11 Curiosity 67 

11 Parsimony 77 

Operatic Charade. —Conjuration 103 

Allegory. — The Pilgrim's Choice 115 

Charade. — Cinderella 115 

" Elocution 157 



COLLEGE NED. 



AN OPERA. 



Airs. — Happy Greeting. — Captain Jenks. — I want to be 
an Angel. — Annie Laurie, Silver Bell. — Homeward Bound. — 
Sparkling and Bright, American Song Book, p. 75. — Midnight 
Hour, Silver Bell, p. 140. — Lillie Dale, Golden Wreath, p. 99. 

— Last Hose of Summer, Columbian Glee Book, p. 51. — When 
the Swallows homeward fly, Golden Wreath, p. 231. — Christ- 
mas Carol, Silver Bell, p. 240. — Driven from Home, Ballad. 

— Dearest May. — Few Days, Golden Wreath, p. 215. — 
Twilight Dews, Columbian Glee Book, p. 182. — Life on the 
Ocean Wave, Columbian Glee Book, p. 200. — Forgive and 
Forget, The Greeting, p. 24. — Kathleen Mavourneen, Silver 
Bell, p. 94. — Home, Sweet Home, Odcon, p. 78. — Little 
Brown Jug. — Few Days. — - Angry Words. — O, Susanna. 

CHARACTERS. 

Mr. Grey. 

Ned and Joe, his Sons. 

Walter Thoreau. 

Landlord. 

Pat Maloy. 

Three Gentlemen for Sleighing Scene. 

Mrs. Grey. 

Grace, her Daughter. 

Cora, Ned's Sweetheart. 

Biddy Shien. 

Two other Ladies in Sleighing Scene. 



8 COLLEGE NED. 

Scene I. — Family Room, in the evening. Mr. and 
Mrs. Grey, son Joe, and daughter Grace, at their 
work or books, sitting around the table. Father read- 
ing paper. 

Air. — " Happy greeting to all." 

Father. — 

O, children, be quiet ! and listen, my dear ; 

The paper gives news that you '11 joyfully hear ; 

The college its prizes has given to-day, 

And first on the list is one Edward M. Grey. 

AIL — 

Joyful tidings to all, to all ! 

Joyful tidings, joyful tidings, joyful tidings to all. 
Mother. — 

Dear Edward ! Though thankful and glad lie must be, 
Not half so relieved, nor so happy as we. 
I '11 own my misgivings have followed him there, 
Temptations so thickly those pathways ensnare. 

All. Joyful tidings, &c. 

Enter Cora. Grace rises to meet her. 
Grace. — 

And here comes dear Cora. O, Cora, such news ! 
You 're first to receive it, as Edward would choose. 
He 's won the first prize at the college — our Ned. 
The paper to-night has the glad tidings sped. 

All. Joyful tidings, &c. 

Cora. I heartily share in jowr pleasure, dear Grace. 
I knew he'd be victor, whatever the race. 

Joe. Ah, ha ! shy Miss Cora. Ned pays me right well 
When that pretty speech unto him I shall tell. 
Pretty speech I shall tell, &c. 



COLLEGE XED. 9 

Enter Pat, with a letter. Biddy folloivs behind, and 
snatches it away from him. Pat turns, shakes his 
fist at her, and sings, — 

Air. — " Captain Jenks." 

I 'm Pat Maloy, the man of work, 

Be jabers, sure, I never shirk ; 

Give the letther here in the shake of a quirk, 

Without a word of your blarney. 

{He snatches vainly at the letter.) 

Biddy. And I 'm Biddy Shien, from the town of Cork, 
At likes of ye not afraid to walk ; 
Meself 's the one — so hold your talk — 
To bring the word of the darlint. 

Pat (the chorus) . — 

But the post-boy said, I must give meself, 
Must give meself, must give meself, 
The post-boy said I must give meself 
The letther to the master. 

Biddy. Be off with ye, for a big spalpeen ; 

It's Master Ned's, and sure he '11 mean 
Meself should bring his letther in. 

(Both shout the last line.) 
Here, marm, is word from the darlint ! 

Mrs. Grey takes the letter, glances at it, and gives it to 
her husband, who opens it and reads. Then sings, — 



10 COLLEGE NED. 

Air. — "I want to be an Angel," 

Here's more that's sure to please yon ; 

Ned 's coming home to stay. 
He says he longs to tease you 

With his vacation play. 

He brings a pleasant fellow, 

A college pet and chum, 
And asks, " Are apples mellow? " 

And, "When will Cora come? " 

Grace {dapping hands). 
Ned's coming, yes, he's coming ! 
What splendid times we '11 see ! 
Joe {snapping fingers) . 
O, jolly ! ain't it jolly ! 
What fun there's sure to be ! 

{Knocking heard ivithout. Biddy slaps Pat on the 
shoulder.) 

Whist ! don't you hear the knocking ? 

You 're daft as well as green. 
Ye '11 show your sinse unlocking 

To let the stranger in. 

«• 

Pat goes out, returning instantly, followed by Ned and 
his friend. While Ned is shaking hands, Biddy, 
showing signs of chagrin, whisks her apron violently, 
and sings, — 

Biddy. Och, murther, what a ninny ! 
Meself for Ned had gone, 
I'd got perhaps a guinie, 
He's been awaj r so long. 



COLLEGE NED. 11 

Pat {laughing). A ninny, yes, a ninny, 

Faith, that's the likes of ye ! 
The smartness of Miss Biddy 
Ail eraythurs laugh to see. 

Exeunt Pat and Biddy, carrying out the good-humored 
quarrel in gestures. 

Air. — " Annie Laurie." 

Ned. I tell you now, a fellow 

Finds this a welcome sight ! 
And 't would be enough to mellow 
The sternest anchorite. 

Ned {chorus). — 

Away with books and care ; 

To home delights I yield. 
For a jolly winter's frolic 

My heart and feet are steeled. 

Ned. I bring a comrade to you ; 

You'll welcome him, I know. 
My chum, this Walter Thoreau, 

As college records show. 
What ho ! for skate and bell ! 

A mad and merry time ; 
You'll share my sleigh, Miss Cora, 

And sing the jingling rhyme. 

{They all welcome Walter by their gestures.) 

Walter Thoreau. I too am quite delighted 

To share this welcome home ; 
Though still I feel benighted, 
So far from mine I roam. 



12 COLLEGE NED. 

Thanks for j r our welcome kind ; 

I '11 help jon speed the hours. 
And with jest and song and sleigh-bell, 

Who '11 miss the summer's flowers ? 

Father. 'Tis very well, my students ; 
This frolic you have earned. 
But take care that pleasure's gladness 
Is ne'er to folly turned. 

(All young folks in chorus.) 

O, no, no fear of that, 

For if our bells we bear, 
They shall ring on Dobbin's harness, 

Not cap of Folly's wear. 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene II. — Walter Thoreau, alone at the Inn. 

Air. — " Homeward Bound." 
Walter. — 

I am possessed with a spirit of wrath ; 

Who blameth me, blameth me? 
Here has this Ned thrust me forth from the path 

I aimed to see, aimed to see. 
Earnest I strove for the rank and the prize ; 

Ousted from both b}' this paragon trim, 
Now I discover fair Cora has eyes 

Alone for him, only him. 

Weary enough have I grown of his praise, 

This college boast, petted son ; 
Sick of his grace, and his high-sounding ways, 

I wish his race — wish it run ! 



COLLEGE NED. 13 

Ha, I can tempt him ! he's easily turned. 

Wine is the goddess has ruin prepared ; 
Once in his veins has its poison but burned, 

He's safely snared, safely snared. 

Enter Landlord, with a tray in his hand 

Air. — " Sparkling and Bright." 

Walter Cobweb bedight, landlord, say to-night, 
What your cellar holds in gloaming ? 

Landlord. Like jewels bright, in flashing light, 
Shall beaded wine be foaming. 

Both. Then we'll be gay, while yet we may ; 

The sleighs are soon arriving. 
Hark ! listen the lay the bells chime away ! 
Be sure 'tis Ned that's driving. 

(Sounds without of jingling bells, cracking whips, and 
song — same air. All sing without.) 

Sparkling and bright, in the rich moonlight, 

Lie the snow-wreaths pure before us ; 
Merry and light to gladsome night 
Sound bells that jingle o'er us. 

O, then be ga}-, while }~et we may ! 

O 'er silver sheen thus flying ; 
Who'd envy the fay, as they skim away? 
For wings who'd think of sighing? 

(The merry couples come bounding into the Inn, and ivhen 
there, in a careless group, repeat last song, " Spark- 
ling," etc. Landlord and Walter advance to them.) 



14 COLLEGE NED. 

Air. — " Midnight Hour." 

Landlord and Walter. — 

We welcome you, the banquet waits, 

And idly hangs the fiddler's bow. 
For ladies fair yon rooms in state 
A mirror's smiles bestow. 
All gentlemen. — 

Then haste awa} r , and reappear, 

With joyous smiles to grace the scene. 
The banquet waits, the hall is drear, 
Till you again are seen. 

[Exeunt ladies to the dressing-room. 

Air. — " Midnight Hour." 
Walter. And now I know you're stiff and chill, 
And sadly need a warming glow. 
Here, landlord, all the glasses fill 
With rubj r nectar's flow. 

(Landlord Jills glasses. Ned shakes his head, and draivs 
back. The Landlord sneers.) 

Walter. For shame, Sir Ned ; you are afraid 

The old man's threat — the apron-string ! 
O, boys, this chicken should have stayed 
Safe under mother's wing ! 

(Ned reaches hastily, takes the glass, and drinks, while 
the others clink theirs.) 

Walter. Now, Ned, I know you're brave and strong, 
As college boys should always be. 

Ned {with bravado). — 

O, yes, and you shall find, erelong, 
A full-fledged' chick I'll be. 



COLLEGE NED. 15 

(All gentlemen in chorus.) 

Let 's drink to that ; we pledge his health ; 

To " College Ned " our homage pay. 
Here 's health, and joy, and much of wealth 

To " College Ned" to-day. 

(Re-enter the girls.) 

Air. — "LillieDale." 

Cora. O, Grace, dear Grace, I cannot see 
Yon wine-cup without dread ! 

Grace (in ansiver). — 

But Ned was taught at mother's knee, 
TVhat madness it has fed. 

(They cross over, and stand, one on each side of Ned, 
while singing in chorus.) 

Grace and Cora. — 

O Edward, dear Edward, O Edward, hear ! 

Leave the wine-cup's blossom ; 
It has Upas power. 

O, beware of its deadly cheer ! 

Walter (from behind). — 

Come, Ned, old boy, come, take a sip : 

The foaming nectars wait ; 
The kisses rival beauty's lip. 

Come, prove }^our man's estate. 

(All gentlemen in chorus.) 
Be happy, be jolly, be free and bold. 
Prove your right to sever 
From your boyhood's fetter, 
And a man's independence hold. 



16 COLLEGE NED. 

Ned. O, it's nonsense, girls ! You need not fear ; 
I know what I can bear. 
Would you have them laughing at me here ? 
Come, to the hall repair. 

{All on the stage join in chorus.) 

Come, dancers ! come, dancers ! ho, dancers, come ! 

Now the gay measures sound 

To the light, merry round ; 
Let the old roof and rafters hum ! 

[Exeunt in couples. 

Walter Thoreau returns to stage. 
Air. — " Last Kose of Summer." 

Walter. 'T is the first step that 's downward ; 

'T is all that I ask. 
You are safe now, Sir Edward, 

And easy my task. 
To the spell you have jdelded ; 

You 've turned from the right, 
From the friends who 'd have shielded 

Your downfall, to-night. 

Re-enter the Landlord, gentlemen, and Pat. All gen- 
tlemen sing. 
Air. — " Little Brown Jug." 

We won't have Pat out in the street, 
So we 've brought him along to share the treat. 
He takes cider, we take wine, 
In little brown jug they both can shine. 
Ha, ha, ha, Pat and all, 
Spirits like these to-night we call. 



COLLEGE XED. 17 

Pat. 

Same air. 

And sure, bedad, I'll help you, thin, 
For to waste a drap would be a sin ; 
Don't tell Biddy — arrah, whist, 
Little brown jug, when you are kissed. 

The glasses are filled again. Thfy hold them up together, 
and clink, while singing once more the chorus, — 

Be happ}', be joll}-, be free and bold, etc. 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene III. — The Family Room, a year afterwards* 
Father sitting stern and angry, with folded arms. 
Grace on a low seat by her mother's knee, with her 
ai-ms crossed on her mother's lap. Joe behind, looking 
grieved and scared. 

Air. — " When the Swallows homeward fly." 

Mother. Ah, young hearts are strangely led ! 
Evil spells are swiftly sped. 
O, forget not jealous care 
Needs the young soul sins ensnare. 

(Grace and Joe join in chorus.) 

Hear our plea. O, father, hear ! 
Be not harsh with Edward dear. 
Let us win him back with love. 
Edward, dear Edward, still is your son. 
Edward, dear Edward, still is your son. 



18 



COLLEGE NED. 



Grace. O, we love him, father, so ! 
He our pride a year ago, 
With his warm and tender heart, 
Must I from my brother part ? 

{Mother and Joe join in chorus.) 

Hear our plea. O, father, hear ! etc. 

Father. Cease your foolish pleading now ; 
He has chosen guilt and wo ; 
He has turned from home and right ; 
Let him vanish from our sight ! 
Do 3'ou think my outraged heart 
Still to him will love impart ? 
He no longer is my son. 

Ingrate and rebel, no not my son. 

Ingrate and rebel, no not my son. 



Enter Edward, ivho comes forward, sorrowful and 
ashamed. 

0, my father you are right ! 
All unfit to meet j^our sight. 
I have sinned against you all ; 
Yet once more for pardon call. 

O, I own my stumbling feet ! 

The}' have shamed the midnight street, 

And my soul is stained with sin. 

Praj T I, yet pray I, O, take me in ! 

Pray I, yet pray I, O, take me in ! 

(Edward kneels at his father's feet. Mother and Grace 
bend beside him, with clasped hands.) 



COLLEGE NED. 19 

Air. — " Christmas Carol.' ■ 
Father. No, no, no. 

In vain 3-011 plead for pardon ; 
The more my heart you harden. 
You 've lost my loving trust ; 
I have only words of blame, 
You bow my head in shame 
Unto the very dust. 

Shamefully, shamefully, 3-011 deceive. 
Riotous, riotous, home you leave ! 
Go hence ; no more we know 3-ou ! 

Go, go, go. 
Fill out your wicked measure, 
Who might have been our treasure. 

Idle to regret 3-011 ! 
No more is here 3-our place ; 
Show not to these your face. 
Leave us to forget you. 

Shamefully, shamefully, 3-011 deceive, etc. 

(Ned rises, makes a despairing gesture, and stands icith 
drooping head. The mother and sister are weeping. 
Father ivith outstretched arm and angry frown.) 

[Curtain falls on the tableau. 



Scene IV. — At night. Ned alone by the roadside, near 
his father's house. 

Air. — " Driven from Home." 
Here in the cold night, outcast and lone, 
Wander I forth, with no home of nrr own, 
Wretched and heartsick. O, sa3-, can it be 
All have forgotten who once cared for me ? 



20 COLLEGE NED. 

Yet well it might be — ay, and be right. 
Smile of my mother, you haunt me to-night. 
Bitterly, bitterly have I atoned. 
O, hear me now, Father, in heaven enthroned ! 

Chorus. 

Some one to help me, but one to bless, 
A word to strengthen me, the least caress, 
Fiercely I'd wrestle the tempter to slay ; 
Earnest I'd strive, and would cast him away. 

Scorned by the prosperous, fallen low ; 
None can despise, nor such fierce taunts throw 
As my own wild heart that with shrinking feels 
Guilt's searing brand, as my forehead it seals. 

Madman indeed ! what blessings were mine ! 

Accursed wiles of insidious wine ! 

Bitterty, bitterly, do I repent, 

And 3^earn for the blessings so lightly spent. 

Some one to help me, etc. 

{He folds his arms, and stands despondent.) 

Enter Walter, nicely dressed, flourishing his cane. 

Air. — " O, dearest May." 

Walter. What, College Ned ! why, is it you? 
Alone in the cold night. 
No wonder that 3^011 're looking blue ; 
You are quite a sorry sight. 
O, College Ned, 
What dismal hours you 've led ! 
You look so glum, I 'm sure you 've come 
To last of dimes to-night. 



COLLEGE NED. 21 

Pooh, pooh, old boy, you 're out of tune ; 

A glass will set you right, 
And make you brisk as bees in June, 
For I'll stand treat to-night. 
Come, College Ned, 
We '11 drown out fear and dread ; 
We '11 laugh and sing, our glasses ring, 
In a jolly spree to-night. 

[They go oat, AY alter leading Ned. 

Enter Biddy and Pat, looking around searchingly. 
Air. — " Few Days." 

Biddy. I thought I saw our Ned out here ; 

Och Pat, och Pat ! 
He looked our way, as if in fear ; 

O, the poor boy ! 
'T is cruel hard the master's rule ; 

Och Pat, och Pat ! 
His anger sure will never cool ; 

More shame for that ! 

Chorus. 

You 've tazed me for my troth plight ; 

Och Pat, ah Pat ! 
The times I cannot tell right ; 

Now I '11 promise flat : 
Bring our Ned back to his mother ; 

Y^es, Pat ; }^es, Pat ; 
Give poor Grace her darlin' brother ; 

I '11 be 3-ours, Pat. 



22 COLLEGE NED. 

(Chorus repeated.) 

Pat. The bargain, faith, is made, thin, 

Miss Shien, Miss Shien. 
A happy man I '11 be whin 

The poor lad I find. 
Come, we '11 sarch the whole creation 

For Ned, poor boy ! 
Then Biddy '11 take her station, 

Mis' Pat Maloy. 

(They pass off, hand in hand.) 

(Ned comes staggering back across the stage. At the rear 
he stumbles and falls, and lies there, face buried in his 
hands. Three angels (smcdl girls) appear from upper 
portion of rear stage.) 

Air. — " Angry Words." 

First Voice. 

Erring son, O turn thee quickly, 
Sorrows hang thy path around, 

Dangers wait, and pitfalls thickty 
In the sinner's track are found. 

Chorus. (All three.) 

Wanderer, turn thee, downward to ruin . 

Leadeth the path that thy rash feet have trod. 
Angels call thee, angels call thee, 

While thy mother pra}'s to God. 
Wanderer turn thee, list to our pleading, 
Angels call thee, angels call thee, 
Turn thou to the Mercy Seat. 



COLLEGE NED. 23 

Second Voice. 

Erring one, arise ! and spurning 

All the tempter's wily art, 
Filled with holy wrath and burning, 

Act a nobler, better part. 

Chorus. 

Third Voice. 

Grieving soul, the Lord's compassion, 
Yearning to thee, reaches down ! 

Only turn, in humble fashion, 

Peace and joy thy life shall crown ! 

[Angels disappear.'] 

Now come in Grace and Cora, dressed for the street. 

Air. — " Twilight Dews." 

Grace. The evening air is sharp and chill. 

O, Cora, could it be 
'T was Ned thus hovering by the hill ? 

Poor Pat was sure 'twas he. 
Alas ! to think he does not dare 

Come home to his poor mother ! 
He thinks our father's wrath we share. 

O, Ned, my darling brother ! 

(Ned lifts his head, and tarings his hands.) 

(She hides her face in her handkerchief.) 

Cora. Poor little Grace ! don't weep, I pra}'. 
Though deep I share your grief, 
I've made my mind this very day 
To try to find relief. 



24 COLLEGE NED. 

Your father's mandate has for me 

No weight of rightful claim. 
It cannot be unmaidenly 

To save a soul from shame. 

(Ned rises on his elbow, and looks at her wistfully, but 
falls back when Walter enters.) 

I '11 search for Edward, far and near ; 

He was so good and true. 
I 'm sure he '11 listen to me, dear ; 

I '11 bring him back to you. 
I '11 show 3^our mother's breaking heart, 

I '11 pray upon my knees ; 
I '11 make him see he cannot part 

From hearts so true as these. 

Enter Walter Thoreau. 

Air. — " Life on the Ocean Wave." 

Walter. Ah, ha ! now my task is done. 

Eight low has the hero slipped. 
My revenge is neatly won, 

For there lies the eagle, clipped. 

Here is Grace, and Cora fair. 

Why, my luck is brimming o'er. 
I '11 show to the ladies fair 

The pride that the college bore. 

{Stepping nearer, he points to the prostrate figure. .) 

Just look ; O, my ladies, see 
What lies on the chilly ground ! 

For your boasted youth is he. 

Are you proud to know he 's found ? 



COLLEGE NED. 25 

Chorus — Your Ned, your Ned, 

Your Ned, the darling, found ! 

Your Ned, }^our Ned, 
Your Ned, the darling, found ! 

(Grace and Cora turn to look, and throiv out hands in 
excited gesture as they hurry to him. Cora returns, 
confronting Walter with pointing finger.) 

O, this is the tempter, Grace ; 

I knew all the while 'twas he. 
I read in his wicked face 

All his guilt and treachery. 
He has led poor Edward on, 

With a serpent's wily power. 
O, nobler the erring son, 

E'en now in this direful hour ! 

Grace and Cora. — 

Away ! we have only scorn 

For heart that is black and cold 

(Ned, springing up, joins in.) 

Ay, and this shall be the dawn 
Of repentance that shall hold. 
Away, away ! 
Away ! we 've only scorn. 
All three. Away, away ! 

For this of joy the dawn. 

(Walter, ivith looks of baffled rage, retreats. Cora and 
Grace cling to Ned, with joyful smiles. Grace runs 
out, and returns with a coat to replace his tattered 
jacket, just as he finishes first verse below.) 



2Q COLLEGE NED. 

Air. — " Forgive and Forget." 
Ned. — 

Forgive, O, forgive ! though 'tis little deserving 

Of mine that has claim on your kindness to-night ; 

But I heard, ah, I heard you so generous serving 

A friend who had fallen so low in jout sight. 

O, forgive ! O, forgive ! 

I vow now to live — 

O, hear me, ye Heavens ! renouncing my sin. 

Cora and Grace. — 

O, joy, Edward, joy ! Ah, how watchful is Heaven, 

To send us to find you, this beautiful night ! 

We are sure it is lasting, this penitence given, 

And certain your ways will be guided aright. 

O, rejoice and be glad f 

Rejoice and be glad ! 

AIL And haste to the mother, so lonely and sad. 

(They go out.) 

Enter Pat, who looks after Ned and the girls, then 

sings. 

Air. — "O, Susanna." 

They've found him sure, and all is right ; 

They 've turned in at the gate ; 
O, ho, bedacl, this blessed night 

Upon the priest I '11 wait ! 
She can't go back, she 's pledged her troth, 

Her vow was safely crossed. 
To welcome Ned they 're nothing loath, 
But Biddy they have lost. 
O, Miss Biddy, ' tis yon must hie with me, 
*I 'm bound for Mistress Daly. Your wedding gown has 
she. 



COLLEGE NED. 27 

(Exit Pat, but returns with Biddy finely dressed in wed- 
ding apparel.) 

(Biddy sings.) 
Same air. 

Faith, Pat, I'm dazed, and scared, and wake, 

It seems I'mina drame, 
Ye mane it trufy ? did he spake 

Those words of yours the same ? 
I'm married ! say, O, Pat, to }^ou? 

I can't believe it so. 
But ah, in gown so fine and new, 

'T is pleasant, sure, to go. 
O, my Patrick, I have one word to say, 
You '11 leave the drink forever, now forth from this 
bless'd day. 

Pat. Sure, Biddy, now 3-011 're mighty hard, 
But, seeing it is you, 
Our weddin' night so brighth' starred. 
I '11 promise safe and time. 

Biddy. You won't repent, O, Pat, I know, 
. The saints give blessings fine, 
Come, let us haste our joy to show, 
Ned, too, the pledge must sign. 

°> ves > { Biddy'. A11 bri £ nt is no ^ the way, 
Both. We 're pledged to Temperance Unions for 
the blessings of this day. 



28 COLLEGE NED. 

Scene V. — And last. Mother, alone, in the Family 

Boom. 

Air. — i: Kathleen Mavourneen." 
Mother. — 
Edward, my darling, my heart sure is breaking ; 

Your voice is ringing alway in my ear. 
O, reckless your life, and the fond hopes 3^ou're stak- 
ing ! 

Edward, my darling, O, couldst thou but hear ! 
O, hast thou forgotten thine innocence hearkened 

When low at tlry bedside bent thy mother her knee ? 
It may be that sin has most wofully darkened, 

But still thou must know rise petitions for thee. 
It may- be, &c, (Last two lines repeat.) 

Enter Father. 

Father. — 

Dear wife, j r ou 're pining. I know all your grieving, 

I see all the shadows that lurk in your eye. 
Sad visions of anguish and hardship you 're weaving ; 

Edward, your first-born, awakens j^our sigh. 
Ah, now I confess that my anger was cruel ! 

It drove him the farther awa}- from the right. 
Forgive the harsh judgment ; I '11 search for }T>ur jewel, 

And set it once more where 't will shine in the light. 

Forgive, &c. 

Enter Ned, with Cora and Grace on either side; Joe 
following noiselessly, clapping his hands. Pat and 
Biddy, flourishing handkerchief and apron, bring up 
the rear. Ned kneels before his mother's chair. 



COLLEGE XED. 29 

Air. — " Sweet Home." 
Ned.— 

From perils and wandering, parents, I come, 
And I ask your forgiveness, and O, take me home ! 
I call on the skies that recorded my vow ; 
No longer a drunkard, I'll be worthier now. 

(Grace and Cora join.) 

Say, say, dear, dear friends, 
Will you take me back ? 
Will you take me back ? 

Father. — 

O ! joyfully, my Edward ! and not alone 

Shall the blame fall on your sin ; a harsh will I 've 

shown. 
Let all be forgot ; we '11 begin now anew, 
And see for the future we 're faithful and true. 

All sing. Ned, Ned, dear, dear Ned, 
We have him once more ! 
We have him once more ! 

[Curtain falls. 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 



AN OPERATISSIMO. 



Airs. — Cherry Ripe, Sheet Music. — Dreaming, ever fondly 
dreaming, Emerson Singing School. — Roll on, Silver Moon, 
Columbian Glee Book. — What *s a' the Steer Kimmer ? Golden 
Wreath. — The Mermaid's Eveniug Song, Sheet Music. — 
Mountain Maid's Invitation, Golden Wreath. — When you and 
I were young, Maggie, Sheet Music. — Nora, Pride of Kil- 
clare, Wreaths of Gems. — Bonny Doon, Boston Melodeon. — 
'T is Evening brings my Heart to thee, Sheet Music. — Last 
Rose of Summer, Golden Wreath. — Spring's Approach, Duet 
by Gilbert, Sheet Music. — 0, hush thee, my Babie, Quartet 
by Sullivan, Sheet Music. — Bounding Billow, Odeon. — The 
Orphan's Prayer, Silver Bell. — Oft in the Stilly Night, Silver 
Bell. — Evening Prayer to the Virgin, Columbian Glee Book. 

Characters. — Mother ; Rose ; Fanny ; Prince ; 
Page; Old Woman; Princess; Fairy ; % Hunters ; 
Neighbors. 

Costumes. — Rose. Dress, striped skirt, handsome 
apron, of bright color, and Doll}' Varden over-skirt, 
under which are fastened the elastic cords that suspend 
her jewels and roses, which are dropped out, one by 
one, as she sings. She has also the most brilliant 
stones hidden in her loose sleeves, from which a very 
little practice enables one to drop them gracefully. 
The stones are secured in a netted bag of silk, if they 
are unset, to which the elastic is tied, and the vibration 



32 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

of the cord gives them the appearance of playing 
around her all the time she is singing. She wears a 
tinj r cap, of lace or muslin, on her head, and carries a 
large stone pitcher to the spring. 

Fanny. Dress of richer material than that of Rose, 
but in same style ; narrow quilted silk petticoat, and 
full Dolly Varden over-skirt, open in front ; apron of 
satin, with gay embroidery ; hat on her head, with long 
streamers of ribbon ; necklace and bracelets, and bril- 
liant ear ornaments ; large puffs on the sleeves, of any 
bright color different from the dress, give the old-style- 
picture effect, and, made of gloss}- cambric, have the 
appearance of satin. The snakes and toads are sus- 
pended by elastic, and hidden under the full over-skirt 
until time for their appearance. She carries a silver 
pitcher to the fountain. In the last scene, where she 
faints, and the Fairy appears removing the spell, 
Fanir^ must manage to cast her snakes out of sight, all 
but the largest toad and snake, which may have a 
longer elastic attached to them, and be drawn out by 
some one behind the scenes, as if they were obeying the 
command, " Fly, creeping ill." 

Mother wears a large cap, quilted red skirt, gaj T - 
colored, large-figured over-skirt, crossed neckerchief, 
and striped apron ; mits on her hands. 

Prince. Velvet coat, trimmed with gold lace, or 
bands of gilt paper stitched on with glass beads ; gold 
dagger and belt ; high boots, with bright red leather 
top-trimming and gold fringe ; cap, with long feather ; 
pointed lace collar, fastened with brilliant jewel. 

Page. Common fancy page's suit ; bow and arrow. 

Huntsmen. Green jackets, with cross-belts ; green 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 33 

caps, with bright, upright feathers ; arms, one, a large 
bow and arrow, a spear and shield for another, and 
battle-axe for another. 

Old Woman. A scarlet cloak, a black quilted pet- 
ticoat, and hat with conical crown, made of stiff brown 
paper, tunnel-shape, and put over a low-crowned felt 
hat, then blacked with shoe blacking ; long crutch or 
staff. 

Princess. Costume as elegant as possible, and, for 
last scene, a wand. 

Three Nuns, wrapped in white drapery, with candles 
in their hands. 

The fountain is easily managed. A pail of water, set 
high behind the scene, with a long rubber tube dropped 
into it, and brought through the back covering of stage 
to the large basin, ivhose outside, and the box on 
tvhich it sets, is covered with moss and evergreen. 
Two basins may be used, the water dropping from one 
to the other; and plants, whose pots are hidden ivith 
green, set around the lower basin, add to the effect. 

Snakes made of jointed wood, painted ; toads, of paper. 



Scene I. — Enter Rose, with her pitcher, going to the 
spring. She sings as she trips along. 

Air. — " Cherry Ripe." {Sheet Music.) 

Sparkling spring, sparkling spring, lo, I come ! 
Thirsty lips they wait at home ; 
Nectar sweet, nectar sweet, cold and free, 
Crystal spring, O, give to me ! 



34 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

Lovely spring, you murmur gay, 
All alone, the livelong clay ; 
What sweet joy hides in your heart ? 
Ah, to me the spell impart. 

Sparkling spring, &c. 

How you sparkle, how you shine ! 
Who would ask for beaded wine 
Where your cooling fountain flows ? 
Give, O, spring, to humble Rose ! 
Sparkling spring, &c. 

{She fills her pitcher at the spring. Enter Fairy, dis- 
guised as an old woman.) 

(Old Fairy sings.) 

Air. — " Dreaming, ever fondly dreaming." 

Singing, do I hear one singing ? 
Ah, then, hope to me 'tis bringing ; 
For the sun his lances flinging, 

Fills m} T brain with throbs of pain ; 
And my lips are parched and aching. 
See, my limbs with weakness shaking ! 
Sure my heart is near its breaking, 

Can I e'er the fountain gain ? 

(Chorus, sung together.) 

Old Fairy. Water, 0, I long for water, 
For the cool, reviving water ! 
Will you give me some, my daughter? 
And my blessing shall be 3 r ours again. 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 35 

Rose. Water? Yes, I give you water, 
Drink the cool, reviving water. 
Take it as from your own daughter. 
You are welcome — now and yet again. 

(Rose tenderly supports the pitcher for her to drink.) 

Air. — " Roll on, Silver Moon." 

Old Fairy. — 

Ah, my girl, you've a heart that is loving and true, 

With gentle compassion for age ; 
For, as poor as I seemed, you were ready to do 

All your best that my woes could assuage. 

( Chorus for old Fairy.) 

List, now, gentle maid ; you shall have 3-our reward 

For your generous aid, kind and free. 
From 3'our gentle, gentle lips evermore there shall fall 

Jewels rare as } T our kindness to me. 

Old Fairy. — 

You believed I was weary, and feeble, and old ; 

A wandering beggar you cheered. 
*T is a fairy, my child, with a wand of bright gold, 
(Lifts icand, hitherto concealed.) 
That you thus to }X>ur fate have endeared. 
List, now, gentle maid, &c. 

And, hy magic, I will at each moment of speech 

Shall fall from those sweet lips of grace 
A fair rose, and a pearl, and a diamond rich, — 
Worthy dowry for that gentle face. 
List, now, &c. 
2 



36 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

Rose. — 

Ah, then, say, fairy kind, shall it be so, indeed ? 

What ! diamonds given to Rose ? 
O, I thank 3^ou, I thank }~ou ! 't is she that has need, 

For unloved and derided she goes. 

Ah, yes, fairy kind, it is wondrous return. 

I will try still to help all the poor ; 
And if jewels, jewels fall, sure my mother must yearn 

To the child drove with threats from her door. 

(Fairy sings chorus with Rose, using ivords, " List, nozv, 
gentle maid. 9 ' Rose lifts the pitcher again to her lips. 
Tableau. Curtain falls.) 



Scene II. — Mother in her cottage looking out ; Fanny 
at the mirror. Enter Rose, with her pitcher of water. 

Air.—" What's a' the Steer Kimmer?" 

Mother {angrily, with violent gesture). — 

Where have you been, idler, where have you been ? 

Alwaj r s you 're lagging and bringing mischief in. 

We all might languish here, truant, all might perish, 

too, 
For want of water, brought by one so slow as j r ou. 
I 'm ashamed now to own daughter so plain and bad ; 
If you were like my Fanny, I should be proud and glad. 
A lady fair is she, accomplished, fine, and grand, 
Will you put the water down, and not so staring stand ? 

Hose. Don't scold me so, mother, don't scold me so. 

Hearken my stor}^ — 
{Here a rose, pearl, and diamond fall from her lips.) 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 37 

Mother (interrupting pettishly).— 
Be still ; the truth I know. 

(Changing instantly for astonishment.) 
Why, what has happened now, daughter, what has 

chanced to you? 
Sure these are jewels ! Has a fairy danced with you? 

Fanny (sings). — 

Here is good luck for you, sister, here is good luck ! 

Hose (sings). — 

Here is good luck for 3^ou, mother, here is good luck ! 

Mother (sings). — 

Here is good luck for you, daughter, here is good luck ! 

For these are surely jewels a prince might wish to 

pluck. 
What marvel it must be ! How all the folk will stare ! 
Bid the neighbors all come in, the wondrous sight to 

share. 

(Diamond, pearl, and rose, fall from Rose.) 
Air. — " The Mermaid's Evening Song." 

Third Voice. 

Rose. I will tell the tale to thee ; 

Marvellous 't will seem to be. 
A poor woman in the wood, 
Asking water, hy me stood. 
She was weary, wan, and old, 
And I gave her water cold. 
'T was a fairy, 't was a fairy, 
'T was a fairy in disguise. 

(Diamonds fall. Repeat last two lines.) 



38 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 



Then beside the mossy well, 
There she laid on me her spell — 
That henceforth, where'er I walk, 
From my lips, whene'er I talk, 

There shall pearls and diamonds all, 

To the ground in sparkles fall. 

'T is her fairy, 't is her fairy, 

'T is her fairy gift to me. 

[Diamonds fall. 

Music. Third Voice. 



Repeat. 



Mother. I will send my Fanny fair ; 

She will meet the beggar there. 
Now, my darling, graciously, 
That she give the jewels thee, 
Linger by the fountain's brink, 
Give the poor old woman drink. 
She will thirsty be, give it pleasantly, 
Give the poor old woman drink. 

{Trio, of same air, for the three.) 



[Repeat. 



'T is the fairy's gracious spell, 
Pearl and diamond sparkle well, 
And outshine e'en fairy eyes. 
Who would seek for rarer prize ? 

{Mother intersperses for alto, " Who? Who?") 

Than the fairy spell, 
Than the fairy spell, 
Who would seek for rarer prize 



DIAMONDS AXD TOADS. 



39 



Than the fairy spell, 
Than the fairy spell, 
Than the fairy's wondrous spell? 

Air. — " Mountain Maid's Invitation, ■ Come, come, come o'er 
the Hills. , " 



Fanny. 



Mother. 



Fanny. 



Mother. 
Fanny. 



Dear, dear, dear ! 
All that wavs must Igo? 
I am tired, I'd have you know. 
Bring me, then, mother, so, 

Silver flagon here.- 
Dainty hands like mine may scorn 
Coarse brown ware Rose bore at morn. 
Ill enough to serve and fawn 

To a beldam sere. 
O, no, no, no ; O, no, no ! 
Ne'er would I serve her well 

But for fahy spell. 

Hush, hush, hush ! 
Fanny, dear, you must learn 
Graciously to serve her turn, 
vSo to meet proud return, 
And this Rose outshine. 

If I must, why, let me haste ; 

'T is a shame, though, thus to waste 

Manners fine, lose my caste, 

For the creature's whine. 
O, no, no, no ! O, no, no 1 
Ne'er would I serve her well 

But for fairy spell. 

(Tableau. Curtain falls.) 



40 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

Scene HI. — The wood and the spring again* Enter 
Fanny, bearing silver pitcher. 

Air. — " When you and I were young, Maggie." 

Fanny. I 've traversed the whole of the mile, fairy, 

And tired enough I grow ; 
No farther the pitcher I could carry ; 

I welcome the fountain's flow. 
You ugly old woman, I am waiting ; 

Come, bring my jewels on ; 
Your trap with cool water I 'm baiting ; 

Come quick, or my grace is gone ! 
I 'm ready for bargain with you, fairy, 

And enough you '11 be honored, I think, 
When a lady like me condescends, marry ! 

To give to you a drink. 

[_Bepeat last two lines. 

Enter Fairy as an elegant Princess. 

Air. — " Father, dear Father, come home with me now." 

Princess. — 

Maiden, young maiden, come, dip me a draught 

From fountain that woos with its song ; 
And when from its coolness my hot lips have quaffed, 

A penny to you shall belong. 
For I am a princess whom all obe}^ ; 

My tent is now pitched on the lea ; 
If deftly you serve me, perchance, from to-day, 

A handmaid of mine you ma}' be. 

So haste, so haste, so haste, * 

The nectar give now to my taste ! 



DIA3IOXDS AND TOADS. 41 

Fanny. — 

Princess, indeed"! does your ladyship think 

I 'm here as a servant to tease ? 
Have brought the best tankard that you may have 
drink ? 
Just wait on yourself, if you please. 
That stupid old beggar who does not come, — 

I 'm sure I '11 not wait for her long, — 
If she asks for water, I '11 give her some ; 
But others will get but a song. 
A song, a song, a song, 
All others will get but a song. 
Princess (joins in chorus). A song, a song, a song ; 
But Fanny, proud Fanny, such song ! 

Air. — u Pride of Kildare." 

Princess. — 

Is ow, what will 3-011 say, girl, the fairy has crossed you 

Disguised once again ; she 's tested your worth. 
O, selfish, vain creature, your last hope is lost you. 

Your mother shall mourn for the day of your birth ! 

Fanny. — 

My jewels are failing, but still I 'm not quailing 

To woman, or fairy, or heir to the crown. 
My mother assures me I have plenty of friends. 

I 'm Fanny, fair Fanny, the pride of the town. 

Princess. — 

O, foolish and blinded ! 'twere well had you minded 

The lesson was taught 3^011 by innocent Rose. 
Defy you my power? Ah, take, then, 3-our dower : 

With evil, vile evil, your lips shall unclose. 



42 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

Your wickedness reapeth the reptile that creepeth, 
Fit emblem of tongue that speaks only to grieve. 

Go, Fanny, proud Fanny ; the world shall perceive 
The inmates, vile inmates, your heart doth receive ! 

(Fanny stands with hands upraised in horror. Fairy 
Princess stretches out denouncing hand.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene IV. — Rose and Mother at home. Enter Fanxy 
ivith empty pitcher. 

Air. — " Bonny Doon." 

Mother. Here comes my Fanny, darling girl ! 

Now tell me how 3^011 gained the spell, 
And let me see the diamonds whirl. 
Well, where 's your answer ? 

Fanny {sullenly). Mother, well — 

{Toad and snake fall from her lips.) 

Mother {retreating in dismay). — 

O, what is this, this dreadful thing, 

Thafr creepeth from m} r daughter's heart ! 
This reptile vile with poisoned sting, 

O, Fanny, bid it hence depart. 

Fanny. — 

It was that Rose who planned it all ; 

'T was she who laid the cruel snare. 
She thinks to gloat above m} T fall. 
O, mother, turn her from your care. 
{Toad and snake fall.) 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 43 

Mother and Fanny. — 

Away, thou wretch, thou plotting spy ! 
Away, and leave our loathing sight ! 
Thou shalt not come our dwelling nigh. 
Go, perish, with thy gems bedight. 

{Last four lines repeated. Rose joining in with verse 

below.) 

O, hear me now, thou cruel pair ! 

I 'm innocent of any harm. 
O, send me not away, to fare 

With want, and grief, and wild alarm ! 

{They beat Rose and drive her out. She pauses at 
threshold, and all form Tableau.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene V. — Enter Hunters, singing a hunting chorus. 
TJiey have a silver dipper, and drink from the spring, 
the Page bringing it to the Prince, who comes forward, 
after drinking, and sings. 

Air. — u 'T is evening briDgs my heart to thee." 

Prince. How welcome is this cooling shade, 

Where all is peaceful, calm, and still ! 
Life's turmoil seems forever sta}~ed 

By tender babblings of the rill. 
The chase has tired each stalwart limb ; 

Here let us linger for our rest. 
'T was here I heard the fairy hymn, 
That promised bliss unto my breast. 
O, hark, O, hark ! 
{All join.) -What plaintive cry is that we hear? 



44 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

(Rose is heard singing ivithout. They stand listening 
until she enters singing.) 

Air. — " Last Rose of Summer." 

Rose. I am turned, by my mother, 

Away from my home ; 
I 've no father nor brother ; 

O, where shall I roam? 
Forsaken by kindred, 

No kind heart is nigh ; 
Will no one have pity ? 

O, fairy, come nigh ! 

Air. — " 'T is Evening brings my Heart to thee." 

Prince. O, lovely stranger, tell me, pray, 

Who sent thee hither to my side ? 
A fairy promised but this day, 

That here I 'd find a forest bride. 
And tell me now what wondrous art 

Makes those sweet lips a casket rare, 
That jewels fall whene'er they part? 

O, say thou 'It come with me, my fair. 
My fair, my fair, 

O, say thou 'It come with me, my fair. 

Hunters {join singing). Thou fair, thou fair, 

O, say thou 'It go with him, thou fair. 

Rose (sings, also in same) . — 

0> joy, O, joy, O, joy. 

I 've found nry prince at last. 
I did but give a beggar drink, 

A woman weary, bent, and old ; 
Of fairy spell I did not think, 






DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 45 

Until I saw her wand of gold. 
But, ah, your face is in a dream, 

That comes full often to my sleep. 
It seems a friend's that I esteem. 
I know not shall I laugh or weep. 
(All join, each in their own chorus.) 
O, joy, 0, joy, 
0, joy, I've found rny prince at last ! 

(Duet between Prince and Rose. From duet, " Spring's 
Approach" by B. F. Gilbert.) 

O, how gladsome is this meeting ! 

Fate, propitious, means us well. 
'T is magical spell, O, fairy dear, 

'T is magic of thy spell. 
O, how gladsome is this meeting ! 

Fate propitious sent us here. 
List the fount our true love greeting ; 
Hear it bubbling forth its glad delight 

At true lovers meeting near ! 
Phoebus, too, his sunshine flinging 
Down in blessing, laughs while winging 

O'er the blue arch of the sky. 
And the birds in glee are singing ; 

Flowerets gay their wreaths entwine ; 
Wedding bells the fays are ringing ; 

Bride and bridegroom would they crown. 
O, how gladsome is this meeting ! 

Fate propitious sent us here. 
Give us all j-our happy greeting. 

'T is your spell, O, fairy dear. 
O, crown us with your blessing here. 



46 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

{Quartet by Rose, Prince, and Huntsmen : four parts.) 

Air. — Sullivan's " 0, hush thee, my Babie." 

Farewell, then, O, fairy, farewell must we say, 
To grove of enchantment, to fountain at play ; 

Fair fount of the fay. 
To home and the court from our hunting we turn, 
For hearts of our kindred with waiting must yearn. 
Good fortune goes with us, wise lesson we learn. 

Farewell, then, O, fairy ! 
We bear with us treasure that richly shall dower 
The maid who as princess, shall sing in our bower, 

And bloom as its flower. 
The spell thou has woven no mortal has taught, 
And the jewels she bringeth will fondly be sought 
Till her wisdom of speech shall our fortunes have 
wrought. 

Farewell, then, O, fairy. 

Farewell, then, O, fairy, thy meaning is wise ; 

For the words that are gentle give sweet lips the prize, 

And brighten young eyes. 
Farewell, then, O, fairy ; no longer we stay, 
For fall now the shadows with closing of day ; 
And bear we the Rose of the forest away. 

Farewell, then, dear fairy, farewell, then ; 

Farewell, then, farewell, then, dear fairy. 

(Prince leads Rose ; the rest group around. Tableau. 
The curtain falls.) 



DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 47 

Scent: VI. — Group of villagers standing together in the 
wood. Enter Fanny, wretched and forlorn, asking 
alms. 

Air. — " Bounding Billow." 

Fanny. O, my mother, since you left me, 

Not a face but frowns in fear. 
Cruel fate that hath bereft me ; 

I shall surely perish here. 
Kindly neighbors, see me weeping ! 

Turn ye not in scorn away. 
Sad the bitter fruits I 'm reaping ; 
Not a Mend can I be keeping. 

O, have pity, now, to-day. 
(Toad and snake fall.) 

Neighbors (shrinking away). — 

Loathsome creature, we disown thee ; 
Come thou not our dwellings near. 
All too long our love was shown thee, 
All too long our homes have known thee. 
Think how Rose was punished here ! 

(They turn from her with gestures of abhorrence, and 
hurry out, leaving her alone. Fanny walks feebly to 
and fro, zvith gestures of despair.) 

Air. — " The Orphan's Prayer." 
Fanny. — 

I '11 hie away to the forest shade ; 
Perchance I shall meet there the fauy maid ; 
I will bow my knee, and my sin I '11 own ; 
I will pray for help from the mercy throne ; 
From the throne of mercy, from the mercy throne. 



48 DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 

I'll own my sin, O, I'll try to grow 
So pure it must leave me, this evil show ; 
And, ah, if the fairy the change shall know, 
She may wish me well, she may lift the spell. 
I'll search for the fairy. But faint I grow. 

{She sinks fainting to the ground, and lies there with 
closed eyes, the last viper escaping from her lips. Fairy 
appears from foliage of background, and one arm 
thrusts through the upraised wand.) 

Air. — " Oft in the Stilly Night." 

Fairy. — 

Rest on your lowly couch ; the fairy one hath found you ; 
Humility like this brings friends to guard around you. 
Your tears, your sighs, your 3 r earning heart, 

Show conscience' living token. 
Fly, creeping ill and loathsome dart ; 
The evil spell is broken ! 

{Enter band of white draperied girls, with lighted candles, 
and form semicircle behind her. Curtain falls, and 
rises again on all characters, grouped for Tableau. All 
sing, while Fanny lifts her head in glad surprise.) 

Air. — " Evening song to the Virgin." 
Spirit of gentleness, 
Come fill our hearts with love ; 

Help us in mercy, 
The help from One above. 

Angry words, serpents, die, 
And noble hearts they stain, 
And loathsome horrors fly 
Where hate doth reign. 



DIAMONDS AXD TOADS. 49 

Words of love jewelled are, 

And shine in deathless crown ; 
O, scatter them afar, 

And heaven wafts blessing down. 
Help us, sweet mercy, 

And love with warmer glow, 
Gentle speech adopting, 

Rejoicing go ! 



ACCELERATE. 



A CHARADE OF FOUR SYLLABLES IN OPERA. 



- Airs. — Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching.— Old Folks 
at Home. — The Sweet By and By. — Lightly Kow. — Ala- 
bama Again, Sheet lrfusic y Ditson's. — Maryland, my Mary- 
land. — The Wanderer's Farewell, Lowell Mason's Vocalist. — 
A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea. — Round ; Three Blind Mice. 
— I 'm Very Fond of a Social Glass, Emerson's Singing School. 

— Pop Goes the Weasel. 



► First Syllable. 



CHARACTERS. 
Mr. Woodman. 
Mr. Cheatem. 
Two other Choppers. 
Naiad. 

Blondel, the Troubadour. J Second syllable. 
Richard. ) 

Black Knight. 



Third Syllable. 

I Fourth Syllable. 

The Whole Word. 



White Knight 

Two Squires. 

Druid. 

Monkey. 

Two Cats, 

Four Hay-makers. 

Master. 

Scene I. — First Syllable, Axe. — Four icoodmen 
chopping near a icell or fountain. 
Air.— 11 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the Boys are Marching." 
All sing. Chop, chop, chop ! the summer flieth, 

Winds of winter they will rave, they will rave, 



52 ACCELERATE. 

And the bitter cold will freeze, unless now the kindly- 
trees, 
Yield their tribute to the warm and cheery fire. 

Mr. Woodman. — 

Humble woodman though I be, happy home I yet can 
claim, 
And contented heart I bear around with me. 
Poor and lowly though my lot, still I'm proud of 

honest name, • 

And I gladly work for wife and children three. 

All sing. Chop, chop, chop, etc. 

(At conclusion of chorus, the others shoulder their axes 
and go out, leaving Mr. Woodman alone. Woodman 
pauses to rest, and goes to the well; his axe slips from 
under his arm, and falls into the water. 

Air. — " Old Folks at Home." 
Woodman. — 

O, down into the haunted water, 

Down, down so deep, 
My axe is lost, lost forever, 

What now our fire will keep ? 
No more unto the woodland hieing, 

Btythe, blythe with morn, 
Shall I my task be stoutly plying, 

O, my good axe is gone ! 

Chorus. 

O, my axe that was such treasure, 

Axe was sharp and true, 
Who, neighbors, now my loss can measure? 

Tell me now what I shall do ! 



ACCELERATE. 53 

(Naiad rises from the icell or fountain, holding up golden 

axe. 

Same air. 

Naiad. Far down within the haunted fountain 

Where, where we sleep, 
Your sighs a nymph in pity counting, 

Bids 3'ou no longer weep. 
Now look upon my happy finding, 

Axe, axe of gold ! 
Is this the one your grief is minding, 
. Now tell me, Woodman bold? 

Chorus. 
Woodman. — 

No, your axe is rich and golden, 

'T is a costly toy ; 
No, Naiad, mine was poor and olden, 

But forged well for stout employ. 

(Woodman repeats his chorus. Naiad joins with — ) 

Yes, the axe is rich and golden, 

T is a costly to}\ 
What, Woodman, weep for one so olden? 

This might do for proud employ ! 

Naiad. Was not of gold that flash eth purely 
Bright in the sun ? 
The axe you mourn was silver surely ? 
Here 's one like moonbeams spun ! 

(Holds up silver axe.) 



54 ACCELERATE. 

Woodman. Nay, nay, not mine, 0, gentle Naiad, 
Nay, nay, not mine. 
Of honest steel 't was cheaply weighed, 
(Naiad holds up his old axe.) 
Ah ! there *s the old axe mine. 

Chorus. 
Naiad. Ah, full well, my honest neighbor, 
Have you borne my test. 
O, Woodman, see, I give your labor, 

Golden axe with all the rest ! 
{Repeat chorus. Woodman singing.) 

Ah, my thanks, O gentle Naiad, 

Scarce escape 1113' breast. 

O, richly t'will relieve my labor, 

Golden axe my fortune rest. 

(Naiad sinks out of sight. Enter the other Woodmen, 

while he stands admiring the axes of gold and silver^ 

bat with his own clasped tight to his breast.) 

Air. — " The Sweet By and By." 
Woodman. — 

I 've a tale that is wondrous to hear. 

Scarce, my friends, will the half } t ou believe : 

How the nymph from the fount dfd appear, 

And to me all these treasures bequeath. 

{He points to the golden axe.) 
Chorus. 
All sing. O, the bright axe of gold, 

Worthy gift of the beautiful sprite I 
O, the bright axe of gold, 

Well shall steel and the silver unite. 



ACCELERATE. 55 

Cheatem. — 

Tell me now, how such luck came about, 
Let me hear what you did and you said. 
Woodman, — 

Why, I mourned for my axe, there 's no doubt, 
In a way made her think hope had fled. 

Chorus. 

AIL O, the bright axe of gold, etc. 

(They pass out, leaving Cheatem alone. He stands 
front, and centre of stage.) 

Same air. 
Cheatem. — 

I should think I might win the same prize, 

What 's to hinder my raising nymphs too ? 
This old axe is worn out — there it flies ! 
(Retreating, he throws it into icell.) 
Now I '11 raise a great hullabaloo ! 

(He approaches the icell again.) 

Chorus. 
Cheatem. — 

0, my axe ! O, my axe ! 

I have lost it, my faithfulest friend ; 
O, nry dear, trusty axe, 

"Who will now in nry trouble befriend ? 

(Xaiad rises.) 
Air. — " Lightly Row." 

Here I am, here I am. 

Who is this that weeps and wails ? 
Tell me now, tell me now, 

Whence your trouble hails ! 



56 ACCELERATE. 

For I am the fountain's fay, 
And the waves my voice obey. 
What would you, what would you 
Have the Naiad do ? 

(Cheatem making extravagant gestures of despair.) 

Same air. 

O, my axe, O, my axe, 

I have dropped it in the wave, 

And my home living lacks, 
If you do not save. 

Only bring my precious axe, 

And my grateful joy you tax, 

Evermore, evermore, 

Nymph of wave and shore ! 

(Naiad disappears, and rises again holding up his own 
old axe. Cheatem makes an aside gesture of disgust 
and chagrin, as he sees it.) 

Naiad. Is it this, is it this 

That's so dull, so poor and mean? 
Well it's worn free from rust, 

Long the service seen. 

m 

Cheatem. No, that 's not my precious axe, 
Not the axe so cruel lost, 
Find me that, find me that 
Golden axe of cost. 

(Naiad throws it down, and stooping, lifts another of 

gold.) 



ACCELERATE. 57 

Air. — " Alabama again." 
Naiad. — 

Here, then, woodman's another, and this one is golden, 

You see how it shineth with purest of ore, 
A costlier weapon you scarce have beholden, 

King Neptune would add it, I believe, to his store. 
A magnificent axe, a magnificent axe, 
And you plainly declare unto you it belongeth, 
You 'claim it as yours, this magnificent axe? 

{Repeat chorus, Cheatem joining icith, 
Cheatem's chorus.) 

My magnificent axe, my magnificent axe, 
I distinctly declare unto me it belongeth, 
O, give it to me, my magnificent axe. 

Chorus. 
Cheatem. — 
Yes, O yes, it is mine, is the axe I delight in, 
How welcome its gleaming ! 0, Naiad, you're kind ; 
My fortune is in it, my sorrow you lighten, 
O, now give it to me, the magnificent axe. 

Chorus. 

Both sing. M3- magnificent axe, etc. 

Air. — " Alabama again." 
Naiad. — 

Ah, then, now have you proved yourself covetous 

sinner, 

Unprincipled villain who means to defraud, 
The honest old woodman deserved all I gave him, 

But, wicked old cheater, for j^ou fitting reward 



58 ACCELERATE. 

That you lose your own axe, that you lose your own axe, 
And the golden one too, that you thought you were 

clutching ; 
Old cheater, go home, and without axe either one. 

Repeat chorus. ( Che atem joins.) 
O, my own trusty axe, what a fool I have been ! 
Alas ! wherefore did I come the golden one seeking, 
Alas ! I go home, and without axe either one. 



Scene II. — Second Syllable, Cell. — Outside of a 
prison. A barred ivindow seen. Sentry passing in 
the background. Enter Blondel,^ troubadour, with 
guitar. He looks around cautiously, and eyes the 
ivindow wistfully, then comes forward and sings, glanc- 
ing around towards the window now and then. 

Air. — " Maryland, my Maryland. " 

The nation weeps its tears of wo, 

Lion heart, my Lion heart. 
We cannot tell what secret foe, 

Lion heart, my lion heart, 
Trapped thy bold steps, O, noble king, 
\That prison walls thy spirit wring ; 
Couldst thou but hear me when I sing, 

Lion heart, my Lion heart. 

Blondel. Richard, my king, where dost thou hide? 
Answer now, my Lion heart. 
Search I in vain, afar and wide, 
England mourns her Lion heart. 



ACCELERATE. 59 

Could I but find thy caged retreat, 
Kansom I'd bring for monarch meet. 
Answer if hearing, Blondel greet, 
Lion heart, my Lion heart ! 

(Richard, heard from within the cell.) 

Yes, I am here in prison cell, 
My Blondel, faithful Blondel ; 
My feeble words can never tell, 
Joy that greets my good Blondel. 

(Blondel, with joyful gestures.) 

Blondel. Praise to St. George ! my doubt has fled, 
Found is my lord, fair England's head ! 
Keep thy spirit up, soon is said, 
Farewell cell, by Lion heart. 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene II. — Third Syllable, Err. — A shield set in 
the middle of the stage, its edge to tJie audience, sup- 
posed to mark division of two roads. Enter Black 
Knight, his Squire behind him. The moment after 
he commences to sing, enter from opposite side the 
White Knight and his Squire. 

Air. — " The Wanderers' Farewell," Lowell Mason's Vocalist. 

Black Knight. — 

My sovereign is calling to martial array, 
My armor I buckle while swift I obey. 
And lo, some one cometh, a knight of degree, 
I see on his breastplate white favors there be. 



60 ACCELERATE. 

(The two knights meet and salute.) 

Perchance you can tell me which leads to the plain, 
This road or the other, and also explain, explain, 
This golden shield, this golden shield, 
This golden, golden, golden shield. 

(Repeat chorus all singing; but White Knight and 
Squire sing — ) 

This silver shield, this silver shield, 
This silver, silver, silver shield. 

Same air. 
Black Knight. — 

Now what are you sajdng, by sword that I wield? 

No silver about it, pure gold is the shield. 

White Knight. — 
I tell you 't is silver, if I 've any eyes ; 
You think I'm a dotard, and you very wise. 

Black Knight. — 

Your eyes, then, are failing, or else never knew 
Good gold in its value, nor what is its hue. 

Chorus. 

* J, ) Black Knight. This golden shield, &c. 
J White Knight. This silver shield, &c. 

WJiite Knight. — 

By scarf of fair la} T de, my patience you try ! 
For whim of a madman must color your eye. 
Of gold I have plenty, but silver I know. 
See, braggart, my colors are white with its glow. 



ACCELERATE. 61 

Black Knight. — 

Your language is scornful, White Knight, let the sword 
Endorse* for my sight, and the answer afford 

that proves, 
This golden shield, &c. 
White Knight. This silver shield, &e. 

(They fight, and Squires likewise engage, fencing, if per- 
formers are experts.) 

Enter Druid. 

Air. — " A wet sheet and a flowing sea." 

Druid. What means all this discordant sound 
That vexes all the air ? 
O, cease, ye foolish quarrellers, • 

Your grievous fault declare ! 

I know what silly strife, niy knights, 

Hath proved your foolishness, 
Yet both are wrong, and both are right, 

As you shall soon confess. 

O, 'tis plain you err, you both do err, 
And the fault the world doth sway, 

Oft come the woes that sad hearts stir, 
From looking but one way. 

If only you had stopped to look 

Each on the other's side, 
You had discovered, quarrellers, 

Two metals there divide. 



62 ACCELERATE. 

The shield is silver, sure, my knight, (To White K.) 
And golden, too, my friend. (To Black K.) 

Changed places gives the others' eyes, 
Behold, and pardon lend ! 

Chorus. 

All sing. O, 'tis plain, &c. 

Bound. — " Three Blind Mice." 
All.— 

We all err, we all err, we all err. 

Who only look, who only look, who only look, 

Upon the side that may nearest be, 

And quarrel with those who different see. 

Are there any of you as foolish as we ? 

(Eatfi as he takes up last line, smiles and waves hand 
towards audience.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene IV. — Fourth Syllable, Ate. — Pantomime. — A 
small table set in centre of stage, on which is a pair of 
balance scales. Enter Judge, a person of small stat- 
ure, with a monkey 9 s mask on, in tight clothing, of 
bright colors, a long tail hanging down behind. He 
walks to and fro across the stage with comical looks of 
immense self admiration, then takes his seat behind the 
table, and puts on a pair of spectacles. Enter two other 
small-statured persons with cat's-head masks on, dressed 
in short clothes, with ivide ruffs round their necks. 
They bear between them a piece of cheese, and set it 
upon the table, making many obsequious bows before 



ACCELERATE. 63 

the monkey judge. And then each proceeds in panto- 
mime to express his wish for a fair division of the booty. 
The monkey assumes burlesque airs of profound ivis- 
dom. He takes up the cheese, with slow and dignified 
movements, and proceeds to halve it, squinting shaiply 
at each piece as he lays it in the balance. He shakes 
his head as he sees one side weightier than the other, 
and takes the piece in that side, biting off a good mouth- 
ful, and lays it back, which proceeding lowers the other 
side. Upon which he bites off a piece from that, once 
again producing an uneven balance. He keeps up 
this pantomime, until there is but one piece of cheese 
left. The two cats are, all the while, making anxious 
gestures, and ludicrous contortions of alarm, until the 
climax, when the monkey precipitately swallows the last 
piece. TJien they both make forward, extending their 
gloved paws for their share. The monkey assumes his 
most dignified appearance, shakes his head slowly, and 
points to his mouth. TJie cats weep. 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene V. — The Whole Word. — Hay scattered on 
the stage floor. Two men raking, another whetting 
scythe, and another tossing the hay icith a pitchfork. 
Working slowly. 

Air. — " I 'm very fond of a Social Glass," Emerson's Sing- 
ing School. 

Rakers. It's jolly fun when the master's gone. 
Whetter. So say I ! 
Tosser. So say I ! 



64 



ACCELERATE, 



Bakers. 



WJietter. 



Tosser. 



Rakers. 

Whetter. 

Tosser. 



We '11 take our time this beautiful morn, 
And rake to suit our pleasure. 

And whet our scythes to easy time, 
And not be hurried in our rhyme. 

But toss on our way, 
* As the children may play. 

Glad master 's away ! 
I 'm glad ! 
I 'm glad. 

Chorus, all. 

The master 's gone, so let us be gay, 
Let us all be glad and merry ! 

Take our time at least to-day, 
Tom, Jacob, Jack, and Jerry. 

Repeat. 



Enter Master, ivhip in hand, ivhich he snaps to time. 
They hurry up their movements. 

Air. — " Pop goes the Weasel." 

Master. — All around the mowing lawn, 

The mould and damp are lurking, 
You lazy scamps, 3-011 thought me gone, 
Stop, now your shirking ! 

That 's the way } r ou always play, 
If once my back I 'm turning ! 

Not half your work is done to-day, 
Ha, tricks I 'm learning. 



ACCELERATE. 65 

(All Rakers, Whetter, and Tosser, working briskly, 
and repeating same stanza, singing faster and faster, 
and keeping time ivith their movements.) 

O, alas, here comes the boss ! 

There 's nothing now but hurry ; 
Now whet away, and rake, and toss, 

Fly, all a flurry ! 

[Curtain falls. 






CTJBIOSITT. 



A CHARADE OF FIVE SYLLABLES. 



CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Woebegone. Cap, spectacles, and apron with long strings, 

Mrs. Sprightly. Any Lady's costume. 

The Grand Duke. Must be tall, and well wrapped up with fur 

collar. 
Russell. English sporting suit, — whip. 
Ah Sin. Chinese hat and long cue. Wide loose trousers and 

blouse. 



First Syllable, Cue. 

Mrs. Woebegone dusting table and chair. A "knock at 
the door. She opens it, and Mrs. Sprightly comes in, 
tiptoeing in, with short, jerky ways in speech and ges- 
tures, illustrating her name,, as Mrs. W.'s solemn face 
and long-drawn syllables confirm hers. 

Mrs. W. O, my clear Mrs. Sprightly, how do 3^011 
do ? Come right in. 

Mrs. S. How do yon do, Mrs. Woebegone? Why, 
I 'm afraid yon 're not very well, y.ou look so forlorn. 

Mrs. W. Very well? In the name of distress and 
perplexity, how could I be well? O, Mrs. Sprightly, I 
am so tired — so perplexed — so — everything ! Do 
3 



68 CURIOSITY, 

you know I have n't got but this one pair of hands for 
all the work in this house ? Bridget's cousin is going 
to be married, and her sister's husband's sister's child 
is going to be waked, and she 's gone to both places at 
once, I expect. And Dinah's taken offence because 
she was set to cleanup after the u white trash/' as she 
calls it. And she's left too. She's, gone to find a 
place where there are other respectable colored individ- 
uals. And here I am all alone. O dear ! O dear ! 
what ever will become of me ! And Mr. Woebegone 
so particular about the turn of his roast beef and the 
shine of his shirt bosom. 

Mrs. S. Why, my dear creature, there 's no need of 
your being so cast down. Have n't you heard the good 
news that rejoices the hearts of all the housekeepers in 
the land? Ino more ruling of helpless mistresses by 
lady Bridgets or saucy Dinahs. Is it possible you 
haven't read in the newspapers about the great revolu- 
tion that is to take place? About the coming man 
who is to relieve all our perplexities ? There, there, 
don't fret any longer. I '11 just send word down to the 
agent, who is my friend, 3-011 know, and he '11 send you 
up one promptly from the ship-load that came yester- 
day. 

Mrs. W. I don't understand a word you're sa}-- 
lng. But if there 's an}- relief, do let me have it at once. 

(Mrs. Sprightly is hastily writing a line, which she folds 
t^p, and carries out, returning again promjJtly.) 

3frs. S. There! I've sent the word to Mr. Care- 
ful, and I know he'll send Ah Sin along promptly. 
Mrs. W. Send a sin along! Haven't I had sins 



CUKIOSITY. 69 

enough down in my kitchen? What do you mean, 
Mrs. Sprightly? I am afraid you're losing your mind, 
getting to see less — 

^ Mrs. S. Celestial. That's it, exactly. That 's 
what they call 'em. Hark ! there he comes now. I 
knew Mr. Careful would be prompt. 

Enter Ah Six, the Chinaman, ivho salams to them. 

Mrs. W. (holding tip both hands). What in the 
name of all the heathen is this ? 

Mrs. S. A heathen, certainly'; but just ask him 
into your kitchen, and see if you don't find him a faith- 
ful one. That is, of course, after you 've shown him 
what to do. 

Mrs. W. O, I must show him, must I? 

Mrs. S. " To be sure. But then it 's only for once. 
After that he understands perfectly, and you have no 
more trouble. He takes his cue, I may say." 

Mrs. W. I should say so. That 's it, hanging down 
behind, isn't it? To think of my having man-help in 
my kitchen, with back hair hanging down in that shape. 

Second Syllable. Wrt. 

Mrs. W. (again welcoming Mrs. SprigJitly's arrival). 
O, Mrs. Sprightly, I'm so glad you've come! Sit 
right down, sit right down, and let me tell you the great 
honor that's come to me. I knew something splendid 
would come when I got the post-office appointment. 
What do you think, the great Grand Duke is coming 
here to call on me ! 
v^iVrs. S. The Grand Duke. Bless me, that is 
news ! Why don't you send round and tell the neigh- 



70 CURIOSITY. 

bors ? We ought to have a band, and speech-making, 
and a great dinner. And it would never do to have 
him miss a ball. 

Mrs. W. La sakes, it 's only a friendly call on me. 
I shan't make any great fuss about it. I don't want him 
to think I ain't a staunch republican. I 'm 011I3- just 
going to give him a little refreshment. I 've heard how 
he 's very fond of a new drink, I can't tell you the for- 
eign name for it, but it 's made of hone} T and eve^thing 
nice and delectable. And I've got the receipt, and 
Ah Sin knows how to make it, and he 's going to bring 
some in. 

Mrs. S. 0, Mrs. Woebegone, how fortunate 3-ou 
are. I 'm sure you never ought to say another word 
about your bad luck, and 3-our unfortunate star. Dear 
me ! How I should like to see the great Grand Duke. 

Mrs. W. And so you shall. I 'm going to let you 
stay here in this room when he comes. And 0, Mrs. 
Sprightly, I want 3-011 to watch his beau-ti-ful expres- 
sion. Have n't 3-011 seen in the papers what a handsome 
mouth he has ? And they do sa3' that this wonderful 
drink leaves it in the sweetest shape, a great deal more 
charming than the old talk about prunes, prism, and 
that stuff. Such a sweet expression. Mind 3-011 take 
notice of it. Mind 3-011 don't lose the expression. 

Mrs. S. No, indeed, I shan't ; von need n't think 
I shall. Hark ! -there's somebod3' coming now. 

Mrs. W. O, m3' ! if it should be the Grand Duke. 
Sin, Sin, mind the door. 

(She runs up and down in a flatter of agitation. Mrs, 
S. retreats behind a curtain, or some tall chair.) 



CURIOSITY. 71 

Enter Grand Duke, a tall person, well wrapped in furs. 
Mrs. W. makes an extravagant obeisancf. The Duke 
behaves with great dignity. Their conversation is car- 
ried on in pantomime.* Ah Sin J ^enters promptly with 
the waiter, and glasses filled ivith the new beverage, 
which he hands first to the Duke, who politely insists 
upon the hostess receiving it first, and takes the second 
himself. They both bow before the glasses, and drink, 
but pause suddenly, making the most horrible faces. 

(Mrs. S. puts out her head from her retreat to say — ) 
Be sure you miud the expression ! 

(Mrs. W. rushes at Six.) 

Mrs. W. O, you wretch, you stupid! You've put 
in vinegar, instead of wine ! 

(Grand Duke with exaggerated wry expression of lips, 
takes abrupt leave.) 

Third Syllable, Os. 

(Mrs. Woebegone, supposed to be standing outside her 
door in the street.) 

Mrs. W. I must confess I have a passion for for- 
eign folks. Ever since that visit of poor, dear Alexis, 
I 've been an envied woman in this town. I should n't 
wonder now if I had a call from this Englishman that is 
down to the tavern. The world-renowned Russell, they 
call him. The Squire said he was famous most of all 
for his profound sagacity, and his strict accuracy in let- 
ter-writing. 1 don't exactly know what he means, but 
he 's famous, and I know he 's an Englishman. Why, 
what 's all that noise ? 



72 CURIOSITY. 

{Enter Russell, overcoat on, whip in hand ; he runs 
# along siviftly.)' 

Hus. Stop him, stop him. Whoa, whoa ! 

Mrs. W. (catching hold of Jiis coat, and holding him). 
Here, Mister, what 's the matter? 

Bits. My 'os, my 'os. I've lost him; he's run 
away, while I was in the 'ouse, ordering 'am and heggs 
for dinner. Catch him ! stop him ! I 've lost my 'os. 

He pidls himself away from her hold, and rushes off.) 

Mrs. W. (looks \around her in perplexed astonish- 
ment). Lost his 'os. That's queer English. What 
under the sun is it he has lost ? I '11 run down to the 
tavern, and see. 

Fourth and Fifth Syllables, I, Tie. 
Mrs. Woebegone and Ah Sin. 

Mrs. W. And now, Ah Sin, have you set the 
table? 

Ah Sin. Me set him very muchee well. 

Mrs. W. Veiy muchee well ! That 's neither 
English nor Chinee. I would try to talk in one or the 
other. To begin with, you must not be sa} T ing " me " 
all the time. I 've told }~ou over and over again, to say 
" I." You poor little heathen, I should think you 'd see 
for }^ourself, how much respectable x folks use that little 
nominative, first person singular. I won't say it isn't 
conceited, but if you don't think well of yourself, who 
else is going to ? Now mind how you answer me ! 
II we you set the bread to rising?/ 

Ah Sin (gesticulating to suit his talk). Me roll him, 



CURIOSITY. 73 

me pound him, me put him in the pan. He way up — 
so high. 

{Huns out as he finishes.) 

Mrs. W. There — just hear him. I never shall 
teach him to talk am' other way than in that outlandish 
fashion ! 

(She sits down to her knitting, and knits languidly, yawn- 
ing ; presently she nods, and finally falls asleep. Ah 
Sin steals in, takes her long apron strings and ties her 
to the chair. He stands a moment making all sorts 
of grotesque gestures of roguish delight, and then taking 
up a book, throws it down violently just before her. 
She starts up, chair and all.) 

Mrs. W. Goodness gracious ! what noise was 
that? And, merciful sakes ! wlmt ails this chair? 
Dear, dear ! now whoever has done this mischief? It 
can't ever be that innocent heathen Chinee. 

Ah Sin {putting in his head). ISo me, no me. 
Missie, / tie. 

The Whole Word, Curiosity. 

The post-office. Boy brings in the mail-bag to Mrs. 
Woebegone, and goes out. She takes off her specta- 
cles to ivipe them, puts them on carefully, and with a 
very consequential look unlocks the bag, anct takes out 
the contents, looking at each one sharply. The last she 
comes upon is a square parcel, ichich she turns over 
and around, and even puts to her nose. Ah Six and 
Mrs. Sprightly, unseen by her, are watching. 

Mrs. W. Well, now, here's a parcel from abroad, 



74 CURIOSITY. 

as sure as I 'm alive, and it ain't for me. It 's for Mrs. 
Jeniimy Sprightly. Who could have sent it to her? 
And what is it? It beats all I ever heard tell of. 
Jemimy had a second cousin who went over the seas. 
I should n't wonder if 'twas from him. Mebbe he's 
made his everlastin' fortin' and sent Jemimy half of it. 
I do wonder now what's in here. 

(She turns it over and looks at it wistfully.) 

Dear me. .1 shouldn't wonder if Jemimy would 
take it, and keep it, and never breathe a lisp about it* 
O, dear ! Like as not there's di-monds in it. It ain't 
heavy enough for gold, certain. I wonder if somebody 
could n't seal that all up again. I 've got plenty of 
wax — I '11 — 

(Under her fingering the seals give way.) * 

There ! it's come open. So I can't help it, can I? 

(The watchers make amused gestures while she slowly 
removes the paper ivrajopings.) 

Mrs. W. continues. And then, mebbe, it's a mis- 
take. Who knows but it 's a present from the Grand 
Duke, and meant for me, only he 's got Jemimy's name 
by mistake. It's more 'n likely to be a snuff-box, all 
sot round with jewels. I should be sure, if it was n't 
for that horrid vinegar in the drink. But he would n't 
lay that up. He knows 'twas that Ah Sin's fault. I 
do believe it 's a snufi-box. I — will — open it. • 

(She p>ulls off the wrapping, touches the spring, and up 
flies into her face out of his box, a — Jumping Jack.) 



CURIOSITY. 75 

(She screams and drops it. In rush Ah Sin and Mrs. 
Sprightly, clapping their hands.) 

Mrs. S. That's the way people betray themselves. 
Now, Mrs. Woebegone, you must confess you have 
been led into great indiscretion, before all these people, 
by indulging your — will somebody tell me, what 
troublesome trait of character ? 

( The box of the Jumping Jack should be covered so that 
audience will not suspect what it is, and may be as sur- 
prised as Mrs. Woebegone.) 



PARSIMONY. 



A CHARADE. 



First Syllable, Pa. 
A family sitting-room. Jenny sitting at her sewing. 
Enter her sister Lizette, in a little breeze of exhilara- 
tion and excitement. 

Lizette. O, Jenny, I 'ye such news to tell yon ! I 'm 
almost wild with excitement, it will be so charming, 
so delightful, — such a change from our dull, monot- 
onous life ! If — we can only go ! 

(She takes off her hat and shawl, throws them vj)on a 
chair, and sinks into one herself quite out of breath.) 

* Jenny. My dear sister, what have you heard? I 
did not know Miss Clarissa's simple little story was 
able to furnish material for such extravagant delight. 
If we can only go — where ? But then I can assure 3-ou 
it is pretty unlikely we can do anj^thing that requires 
moving away from the farm-house, because — 

Lizette (clasjjing her handstand drawing out her wards 
in the most lugubrious manner) . O, dear, yes, don't I 
know ? because of — Pa ! But my spirit is roused now. 
I'm determined to make a rousing effort this time. O, 
we must go ! we will go ! 

Jenny (shaking her head doubtfully) . I hardly believe 
it, dear ; but where is it, and what is the wondrous 
occasion? Do tell me ;^you have roused my curiosity 



78 PARSIMONY. 

in a fashion that I really believed could not be accom- 
plished in this sleepy region. 

Lizette. . It is a picnic, on Florence Warner's birth- 
day. She gives the party all herself. And there are 
three large wagons provided to take all the guests over 
to "Delightful Retreat" ; and there will be sailing on 
the lake, and croquet on the lawns, and swinging and 
dancing, and supper in a great marquee. O, Jenny, I 
shall die, if we can't go. 

(She assumes tragic look, and sinks back again.) 

Jenny. Not quite that, I imagine, Lizette dear. 
You know jovl are a little inclined to extravagant 
expressions. I have no doubt you will cry a little, and 
storm a good deal, but I 'm afraid — jovl can't go. He 
will never hear to it. He is a great* deal more strict 
now than ever before ! 

Lizette (stamping her foot fiercely) . The odious, odious 
man ! What right has he to make worse prisoners of 
us than half of those who endure the penaltj" of the law ? 
O, Jenny, I believe I hate him. 

Jenny. Hush, hush, dear Lizette, you forget what 
3'ou say. Remember, he is our mother's husband, if he 
is not our own father. 

Lizette. And ought n't I to hate him for that, I 
should like to know ? the cold-blooded tyrant that he 
has proved ! Poor mother ! she dares not say a single 
word, though her heart bleeds to see what dreary 
lives we lead, immured here, not allowed a single 
rational amusement that other girls enjoy. Poor 
mother ! she is only the shadow of what she was. O, 
Jenny, how I wish we were back again in our two little 
rooms, poor but happy and light-hearted. 



paksluoxy. 79 

(She drops her head upon her sister's shoulder and weeps. 

Jenny caresses her tenderly, and furtively wipes her 

own eyes.) 

Jenny. My darling sister, it is useless to fret your- 
self over it all. Try to think of the advantages we gain. 
"We were all ill then, pining for pure air and wholesome 
food, and our dear mother worn out with anxious fears 
for our future, and her own inability to take care of us. 
"We were three feeble women, in a city full of clamor- 
ing crowds, seeking eveiy honest work offered at the 
merest pittance. Think how we hailed Mr Flint's 
appearance then, how delightful we thought this retreat, 
when he brought us out to see it. I remember very 
well how }X)u declared it to be a paradise. Dear 
Lizetterl don't mean to reproach you, but you remem- 
ber, when poor mother came to us with that strange 
look in her e}~es, and told us, with quivering lips, of 
Mr. Flint's proposal 6f marriage, it was I who remon- 
strated, and you who encouraged her to accept it. 

Lizette (iceejying still more bitterly). 0, Jenny, 
don't I know that ? Is n't it the bitterest thing 
to have to bear, remembering that if we had listened 
to 3'ou we might have been spared this cold, freez- 
ing tyranny? But who would know him now as 
the same man? How kind and genial he was then! 
O, he was playing a part surely, but for what purpose 
is still a nrystery. How tender he was ! It makes me 
sicken to recall it, and it makes me loathe him more to 
hear him call us his dear daughters, and insist that we 
shall always call him " Pa." The name is insipid 
enough given by loving daughters to a worthy father — 
" Pa "to him! 



80 PARSIMONY. 

Jenny (stroking her hair soothingly). There, there ! 
Now you are better. Such a hot little creature as you 
are, my Lizette. You boil over like the tea-kettle, and 
that relieves the spluttering. Tell rne, did you see 
Florence down at the store ? 

Lizette. Yes, and I saw — Will Graham And he 
asked me to give this book to 3-ou. You see I forgot 
all about it. Hem — I think somebody else is hot, 
judging by the cheeks ! 

Jenny {in blushing confusion). You silly little tease. 
* Lizette. Well, I can tell you Will was n't very slow 
in expressing his mind about Mr. Flint's tyranny. Did 
you know he came down to the gate last evening, and 
our amiable " Pa " set Bruno upon him ; and finding 
that did n't scare our gallant Will, he went down him- 
self, and told him plainly that visitors were not accep- 
table here ? 

(Jenny looks dozen, takes up her seicing, and draws the 
stitches quickly, but is silent. Lizette looks at her a 
moment, and then throws her arms around her neck.) 

Lizette. You are an angel, Jenny Nye, — a saint ; 
and if 3-011 don't know it, I do. But there 's nothing 
of that sort in me, I confess. I should n't wonder, if 
our delightful Pa keeps on, if he finds out I am a tol- 
erably good vixen and marplot. I tell you what, 
Jenny, I'm going to that picnic, and so are you. And 
I told Will we would. 

Jenny. O, Lizette, that was wrong in 3-ou ! He 
never will consent. I know there '11 be no expense, 
but it is n't all that, close as he is. He seems to have 
some set determination that we shall not enter society. 



PARSIMONY. 81 

Lizette {tossing her head defiantly). "Well, I can't 
help it. . We are going somehow. As I told Char — 
I mean "Will — says I, "I'll try fair means first. I'll 
go to him honorably, and ask permission — and then if 
he refuses, why then — I'll outwit him if I can." And 
Charlie says that 's perfectly fair — and he 's going to 
help me. 

Jenny. Charlie ! why, Lizette, have you been talk- 
ing with Charlie Vane ? 

Lizette (defiantly). You didn't see any harm in 
my talking with Will Graham. I suppose it would n't 
look very well in me to turn my back on his companion. 
They both saw me come out *of the store, I suppose, 
and they came out from the Milton road, and walked to 
the bridge with me. And they both declare we shall 
go to the picnic. Even your grave, pattern Will, who \s 
studying for the ministry, and for a certain saint, too, 
if I ain't mistaken, even he says submission to such 
tyranny is no longer a virtue. And O, Jenny, Charlie 
says there 's some secret reason for — ugh ! — Pa's — 
keeping us so close, and he and Xed are going to look 
into it. And — 

{A cough heard without.) 

Jenny. Hush ! Some one 's coming. 
Lizette. Pa. 

{They both begin to icork industriously.) 

Enter from r. Mr. Flint, looking around suspiciously. 

Mr. F. What's all this talking I heard just now? 
Who } s here ? 

Jenny {meekly). Nobody, sir. 



82 PARSIMONY. 

. Lizette (saucily). Jenny's here, sir, and I'm 
here. If it's too many, we'll both go out to walk, 
down to the Tillage. 

Mr. F. Humph ! I 've no doubt y ou 'cl be glad to. 
It seems to be in the nature of womankind to be always 
gadding. Another proof of the total depravity doe- 
trine. For my part, I don't see how anybody can 
doubt it. 

Lizette (fiercely). Nor I either — in individual 
cases. 

Mr. F. Where's that mother of yours? I'll war- 
rant she 's down in the garden, and by the gate, too. 
I saw two young scamps lurking about the road. I '11 
go and see what mischief is hatching. 

(He goes out by u. door. Enter the next instant, by l. 
door, Mrs. Flint, with some coarse bags on her arm.) 

Lizette (laughing). O, mother, you arc just in time. 
I do believe Mr. Flint has gone flying down to the 
garden gate, to catch 3^011 in a flirtation with two J^oung 
gentlemen he discovered on the road-side. What a pains- 
taking, solicitous husband and father he tries to be ! 

Mrs, F. (sadly). Lizette, my child; that sarcastic 
tone pains me. 

Lizette (ruefully). Poor mother! I'm afraid there 
is hardly anything transpires in this house that does 
not pain }'ou. 

Mrs. F. But it helps me very much to see how 
faithfully my daughters endeavor to do their duty. 

Jenny. Dear mother, you must have a little char- 
ity for our giddy Lizette. She is sorely tempted this 



PARSIMONY. 83 

Lizette. O, mother, dear mother, if we only can 
go this once. Such a delightful prospect ! I think I 
could endure another year's stagnation patiently, if I 
could have this treat. 

Mrs. F. What is it, my dears ? 

Lizette. A party given by Florence Warner, — a 
birthday party, — a picnic at " Delightful Retreat." 

Mrs. F. There can certainty be no harm in that. 
I will ask him myself. My poor girls, don't think I 
am so unfeeling as not to see how hard it is for young 
creatures like you to be so closely immured. I can't 
think what new source of suspicion Mr. Flint has taken 
up. He watches us all as if he expected we were con- 
cocting miscihief. But I will pluck up courage, and 
insist that you go this time. 

Lizette {joyfully). O, you dear, darling mamma! 
How thankful I am. And it's a mercy, sure, for I 
should have made mischief. 

Jenny. Dear mother, I 'm afraid you will have 
to bear as much pain as we shall obtain pleasure. 
Don't be too positive. 

Lizette. O, Jenny, will my pink muslin do? And 
you ought to have a new hat. I 'm so glad we took in 
that lace work, now we have an odd bit to spend on 
finery. Now I can hear what Charlie suspects — and 
(aside) fulfil ray promise of giving him the first dance. 

Mrs. F. (reflectingly, but tremulously). It is cer- 
tainly a very innocent affair. He can't find anything 
to object to. Here, Lizette, take this bag to mend. 

Jenny (aside). Poor Lizette! I'm afraid you are 
too sanguine. And poor mother — poor, poor mother ! 
How her heart quails. 



84 PARSIMONY. 

Lizette (singing a gay air as she begins upon the yaicn- 
ing hole of the bag). O, how splendid it will be ! I'll 
wear the pink muslin and the wild rose wreath, — and 
what gay time 1 11 have with — 

Jenny (catching her sleeve). Pa! 

(All three show signs of trepidation and nervousness, and 
fall to ivork industriously. Mrs. F. dusting vigorously 
at the table.) 

Enter Mr. Flint, scolding about him. 

Mr. F. O, here you are. I've looked the place 
over for j'ou. I do wish women folks would stay in 
their places. It 's a pretty pass we 're coming to. 

Mrs. F. {weekly). Did you want me for anything? 
You sent me to get these bags ready for you, you know. 
And I dusted them out and brought them to the girls. 

Mr. F. Humph ! I see the} r ain't mended, though. 

Lizette (eagerly). They will be shortly, sir. 

Mr. F. (sidkily). Why do you saj- " sir " ? You try 
to give the impression of my being very distant and 
formal. I 've told you to call me " Pa," in the playful, 
affectionate way that other happy children address their 
parents. . 

Lizette (makes a distasteful face aside, and then smiles 
amiably). O, certainly * And, Pa, if }~ou please, we 
want to ask a favor, just as other happy children do. 
Florence Warner has invited us to her party ; please, 
sir, let Jenny and me go to it. 

Mrs. F O, I hope }^ou will. There isn't a^-thing 
objectionable at all about it. 

Mr. F. (fiercely). I want to know if you think so ! 



PARSIMONY. 85 

Mrs. F. I certainly do, and I must beg you to allow 
me to decide for my daughters this once. I have prom- 
ised them that they may go. 

Mr. F. {putting both hands in Ms pockets, and striding 
across the stage) . You don't 'say ? ^Yell, madam, now that 
3'ou have stated your decision, perhaps you '11 hear mine. 
These foolish children will remain at home. They won't 
stir a single step towards any such absurd proceeding. 
I believe I am the head of this house, and I calculate to 
hold the reins. I want those bags in half an hour. It 
is the proper sphere of women to be busy and happy 
over their needles at home. You don't find me encour- 
aging these bold, ridiculous doctrines that are going to 
overturn society if they succeed. Picnics indeed ! If 
the}' want to be out in the fields, let them come down 
and rake hay with their Pa ! If they want to ride they 
can go to mill, or to. church with their — Pa. 

(He goes out.) 

Lizette (springing up and stamping her foot, while she 
throivs down the bag). Pa, indeed ! odious enough has 
he made the name. Now I defy him. I'll- go to the 
picnic. You need n't cry, mother darling. I '11 find a 
way to go to the picnic, if I have to put a sleeping 
powder in his coffee that morning. 

Mother. Lizette, Lizette ! 

Lizette. I don't care ; I can't help it. I '11 — 

Jenny. Hush, hush ! 

(Mb. F. puts his head in through the open door.) 

[Curtain falls. 



86 PARSIMONY. 

Second Syllable, Sigh. 

Mr. Flint alone before a small table, on which is a 
candle burning. Clock in the room with the hands 
marking twelve o'clock. He has a small trunk on the 
floor beside him, and a box of papers on the table, 
which he is sorting over. He stops every few moments 
and looks behind his shoulder, and at the doors. Hubs 
his hands together while he talks. 

Mr. F. There, those coupons are off safety, ready 
for me to take into the office, if I go to town to- 
morrow. I'll sell the gold I get to the broker. There's 
a comfortable premium now, and I'll put the money 
into that mortgage of Hardup's. It will be a profitable 
speculation ; the poor devil can't hold out long, and the 
widder will make easy terms. These soft women folks 
always do. Ha, ha ! I flatter myself I have a pretty 
firm grip on three of 'em. If Mrs. Flint — Mrs. Nye 
that was — only knew, — ah, if she only dreamed how 
this old claim of the late Mr. N}^e had turned out. But 
I should n't be much afraid of her if she did. She 's a 
poor spiritless creature. It 's that Lizette I 've got to 
keep closest guard of. She's* a tigerish piece, when 
3^011 get her roused. Go to a picnic, indeed ! And 
have some of these monej^-hunting 3^oung jackanapes 
around them, and asking to marry them next, and pok- 
ing into their father's old accounts. No, no, not if I 
know myself. I '11 lock every door in the house first, to 
keep them in, and husbands out. Let 'em think they 
owe everything to me ; that keeps 'em in proper meek- 
ness. Gracious ! if they should find out about this 



PARSIMOXY. 87 

comfortable fortune, how they 'cl make it fly? No, no. 
I '11 keep my secret safe. I'll have it all myself. 

(Looks around to the clock.) 

Past twelve o'clock? I'd no idea it was so late. 
It 's a skeery sort of time. Confusion ! what 's that? 

(The sound of a long-drawn sigh is heard.) 
(He springs to his feet, looks under the table and chairs.) 

It is n't Bruno. I certainly heard a queer noise. 
Can it be Nye's ghost is about? (Sigh heard again.) 

(Fie rushes to the table, and begins to gather up the 
papers, but drops them precipitately as the sigh echoes 
through the room louder than ever. His teeth begin to 
chatter, and his limbs to shake, but he seizes the papers, 
crowds them into the box, and goes off, candle in one 
hand, lugging the box under his arm, and making his 
fright as evident and ludicrous as possible. As soon 
as he is gone, two young men come in, stepping cau- 
tiously.) 

Charlie Vane. By George, Will, I 'd no idea that 
effort of mine was going to be quite so effective. I 'm 
nearly spent in breath. But have n't we unearthed a 
pretty secret? I knew there was something at the 
bottom of his grip upon those dear girls ? I knew the 
old skinflint would be thankful to escape giving them 
board and clothing, unless there was a secret gain 
through them. I only meant to take advantage of his 
superstition, and scare him into consenting to their 
going to the picnic. I did n't dream we should strike 
such a trail as this. I tell you what, Will, it won't do 
for us to leave it now. 



88 PARSIMONY. 

Will Graham. ' No, Charlie, it won't, that 's the 
fact. I did n't think 3^our harum-scarum brain could 
pounce so adroitly upon the truth. I only consented 
to come with you to keep jxni from going too far. But 
now I 'm with you, hand and heart. Honor and chiv- 
alry both demand that we trap this crafty fox, and 
save his innocent prey. Let us get out as quietly as 
we can, and I will try and think up a plan for future 
proceedings. 

Charlie. Lead on, then, valiant knight ; for my 
part, between nry amazement of mind and my well- 
spent breath, I have n't much strength left. Neverthe- 
less, I '11 give the ghost a parting adieu. 

(lie draws a long inspiration, and sighs it forth as loudly 
as p>ossible.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Third Syllable, Mow. 

Mr. Flint's kitchen. Mr. Flint sitting in middle of 
front stage, filing a saw. Mrs. Flint jacking beans 
into a bean-pot. Lizette ivashing, Jenny imping 
dishes. Knock at the door. Lizette runs to open 
it. Two men enter, got up as roughly as possible, 
ivith ivigs and ivhiskers. Will and Charlie disguised 
as Con and Mike. 

Mike (foremost, pulls off his hat, and makes an 
awkward bow to Lizette). Good-morning, miss; the 
top of the morning to you. And indade ye look as if 
the flowers had been before me and said the same to 
ye, and liking 3'e so well had stayed by, leastwise the 
roses and lilies. 



PARSIMONY. 89 

Lvzette (aside). That voice! where have I heard 
it? 

Lizette (aloud). O, you silly old fellow, that sort 
of talk is n't allowed here. What do you want ? 

Mike. And it's after seeking the master I am. 
I'm Mke Makeup, and this is nr^ cousin's second 
cousin, 'Nalius Stupid. Ye can call him Con for short. 
An' it's a job we'd be liking, if we could spake a wbrd 
with the master. 

Mr. Flint (rising and coming forward). I should 
think i; was about time for the master to be consulted. 
What sort of a fellow are you to be palavering with the 
women? And so you want a job ? What sort ? 

Mike (scratching his head). Faith, }-er honor, it 
is n't over particulerish we are. We '11 take anything 
we can be after getting to earn an honest penny. We 
be two biys as were landed back over by the likes of 
the wharf. Bad luck to it ! For did n't we fall into 
the Philistine's hands and get robbed of the last smitk- 
ereen? But if it's work ye'cl be after having, we're 
j^our bi}'s. 

Mr. F. If it's talk I want, it's plain enough *your 
tongue won't be idle. The other chap is the likeliest 
hand b}' half. 

Mike (with a roguish laugh) . Ah, now, your honor 
is mighty quick at a joke. Con 's a bit bashful, but it 's 
jest the likes of me as knows the good of keeping a 
bold tongue in }~our head, 'specially — afore the — 
ladies. 

Mr. Flint. Well, now, supposing 3'ou save your 
breath to answer my questions. 

Mike. Och, murther, indade me breath has served 



90 PARSIMONY. 

me a good turn afore now. But I 'm ready, j^our honor ; 
ask away ! 

Mr. Flint. What sort of work can you do ? Will 
you make a good farm-hand ? 

Mike. Will I? An' sure it's an ilegant biy I am 
for that same. Ask the pigs ? AVhy, the dumb cray- 
thurs spake right out for the ilegant hand I am at any 
sort of work. They know me for one of the right sort. 

Mr. Flint. And what wages? You know, don't 
you, that green hands can't expect high wages ? 

Mike. Faith, your honor, we '11 leave that to sich 
an ilegant gintleman as 3^ourselfto settle. Well stay 
a couple of days for nothing, and then ye may settle 
the wages for the rest ; wont we, Con? Spake a word, 
man, and let 'em know it 's a tongue o' your own you 
have, and not somebocly's else. 

Con. Sure, Micky darlin', ye don't give me that 
same chance. And it 's yer tongue is mine, they '11 be 
thinking. But I 'm plazed, all the same. 

Mr. Flint (aside to his ivife). I'll make something 
out of these greenies, at that. I '11 have down all the 
grass in that five-acre lot, and get two good days' work 
out of them. (Aloud.) Well, I think I'll try 3^011 for 
a little. Of course you can use a scythe? 

Mike. Use a scythe, — faith, and it's a sight to 
see when I do. 

Mr. Flint. All right. Come out and see me hang 
them, ready for bright and early in the morning. 

(The three men go out. Mrs. Flint also retires by oppo- 
site door. Lizette walks to and fro, with a puzzled 
look, and then bursts out laughing.) 



PARSIMONY. 91 

Jenny, How queerly you look, Lizette. And what 
are you laughing at ? 

Lizette. Never mind, Jenny dear; I'll tell you 
to-morrow. I've only got a queer idea in my head 
about that cunning scamp who calls himself Mike. I 
saw you start, too, when the bashful Con found his 
voice. Whom did it bring to your mind ? 

Jenny. It sounded something like Will Graham's 
voice, absurd as the idea is. But it is too prepos- 
terous. 

Lizette. Of course it is — that's just the word, 
preposterous. Hark ! there they come again. Come 
out this minute, Jenny Nye. I never can stand it 
another minute to hear that Mike, while Mr. Flint is 
looking on. 

(She pulls her sister icith her, and both leave the kitchen. 
Enter Mike and Con alone, each with a scythe. They 
speak in their natural voices.) 

Mike (as Charlie). I tell you what, Will, it's 
lucky we 've found a clear field here. We must prac- 
tise a little, and not appear quite so awkward. If there 
is one branch of my education that is exceedingly 
doubtful, I assure you it is the management of this 
ugly-looking farming utensil. If you can teach me any- 
thing, pray do. Is that the way? 

(He takes the scythe, and makes an awkward sweep.) 

Will (indignantly). Mind what you 're about. If 
our new master saw }~ou now, he would think }^ou dear 
even at gratis terms. You were right in thinking he 
would accept our services if he could make something 
out of us. 



92 PARSIMONY. 

Charlie. Yet I mean he shall pay dear, the old 
skinflint and cheat ! To see those lovely girls doing 
his housework, and he stowing away in the bank thou- 
sands of dollars that belong to them. But come, while 
the coast is clear, let us practise. We must manage to 
suit him for to-morrow, at least. Only let me remain 
here over to-morrow night, and I'll manage to have 
that deed copied, and the legal one witnessed by the 
proper parties. Come, Will, go ahead, and let me see 
how it is done. 

(Will takes his scythe, and goes through the movement 
of mowing. Charlie watches him attentively, and then 
seizes his, and goes to work. They fall into a vigor- 
ous pantomime of the act, and are so absorbed that 
they do not perceive Lizette, who comes in noiselessly 
and ivatches them with an arch smile, and then steals 
forward and lays her hand on Charlie's shoulder.) 

Lizette. Mr. Micky Makeup, I should like to be 
initiated, if yon please. What are 3'our intentions ? 

Charlie. M} T intentions ! And faith, now there 's a 
bold 3'oung leddy, Con. Sure, then, — 
Lizette. What are }^ou going to do here ? 
Charlie. Faith, now, jest use them two bright eyes 
and you'll see. 

(They go on to mow.) 

\Curtain falls. 



Fourth Syllable, Nye. 

(Curtain rises on empty room at Mr. Flint's house. 
He enters with lighted candle in his hand looking over 



PARSEVIOXY. 93 

his shoulder, first in one direction, and then in another. 
lie sets the candle on the table, and goes to a covered 
chest, answering for a lounge or seat, and lifting its 
drapery takes out the little trunk or box which held his 
papers in the other scene, and brings it to the table, 
looking scared, as if expecting some unwelcome visi- 
tation all the while. He finally takes out the papers 
slowly. A long, deep sigh sounds from behind him. 
He springs back, dropping the paper.) 

Mr. Flint. 0, land's sake, what was that ? 

(Another sigh comes, and then a peremptory knock sounds 
at the door. Mr. Flint crosses the room swiftly, and 
opens it.) 

Flint. Nobody there ! Sakes alive, what does it 
mean ? 

(Knock sounds from the other door. lie opens that with 
same result. He falls back ivith trembling limbs and 
wild eyes.) 

Flint. Nobody there either ! O, Lord have mercy 
on me ! It must be spirit rappings. 

(The raps sound swiftly all around. He darts to one 
door and a loud thump sends him dancing across to 
the other, from which he reels away at a similaily loud 
demonstration. He wrings his hands, and Hies about 
in a ludicrous panic of terror.) 

Mr. Flint. O, all good saints have mercy on me! 
there's spirits all around me. And there's one I'm 
dreadful afraid to hear. I '11 get these papers back as 
quick as I can, and I never '11, never '11, try to touch them 
again in the night-time. And yet I don't dare get them 



94 PARSIMONY. 

out before the women. O, I know what I'll do ; I'll let 
them go to the picnic ! Just this once, I '11 send them gfll 
off, and have a clear field. Spirits can't come round me 
in the day-time. I '11 put that deed out of the way of tell- 
ing tales the day of the picnic. But as sure as I 'm 
alive, I don't dare do anything to-night. I '11 scrabble 
them into the box, lock 'em up, and hurry to bed. It 
does seem as if the spirits had something to do with 
those papers. 

{He advances to the table, and lays his hand on them. 
The knocking and sighing begin more violently than 
ever. 

Mr. Flint. It must be ! It's Nye around watching 
that deed. O, frightful thought! if he should appear, 
what should I do ? 

{Tie again grasps the papers and is thrusting them into 
the box, ivhen a hollow groan sounds, and the door 
slowly opeils. He seizes the candle, and in his trepida- 
tion extinguishes it, but dashes for the other door, from 
which he recoils, as a figure wrapped in a white sheet 
ivith a skeleton mask, seen through. the drapery, ad- 
vances sloioly. The ghost stretches out a bony, skeleton 
hand. Mr. Flint falls on his knees, his teeth chatter- 
ing. While they remain thus, Will Graham in Con's 
dress slips in from the other door, secures a bundle of 
papers, and disappears. Amidst a loud knocking, and 
groans and sighs, the ghost withdraws. Mr. Flint 
doivly rises, stares about him and mutters,) — 

I 've seen his ghost ! it was he, it was — Nye ? 

[Curtain falls. 



PARSIMONY. 95 

The Whole Word, Parsimony. 

Mr. Flint's kitchen. Present, Mrs. F. and daughters. 
Mr. Flint mending a broken rake, Mrs. F. paring ap- 
ples, Jenny chopping in a tray, Lizette laying the table. 

Mr. F. Another rainy day ! it does seem as if things 
were set against rne. I calculated to do a rousing day's 
work in the meadow, and get my grass all cut this week. 
It's luck}', though, I had that other job. I reckon it 
won't hurt those two lazy vagabonds to be out in the 
rain a little while. They don't suspect it is neighbor 
Green's chore, and that I shall get pay out of it. Ha, 
ha, it takes me to look after things. A little shrewd 
management is the thing. 

Mrs. F. If neighbor Green has any money to pay 
you, Mr. Flint, I wish you would take a few articles 
from his store. We are getting quite destitute for 
table linen of the commonest sort. 

Mr. F. {snarling out the words in a fierce tone). 
Take things from his store ! Yes, that 's always the 
way with women folks. It is buy, buy, spend, spend. 
You are determined to bring me to the House of Cor- 
rection — I mean — the Poor-House. 

Lizette (laughs out, and says aside). It would be no 
more than your deserving, you old miser. 

Mrs. F. (meekly). I am sure I have been almost 
driven to ray wit's end, to make the narrow sum you 
allot me answer for the household expenses. 

Mr. F. Study economy, then. 

Mrs. F. (with deep sigh). I think I have done that 
pretty effectually, until what I used to call frugality 
looks now like prodigal extravagance. 



96 PARSIMONY. 

Mr. F. You 're a long way off from my standard. 
Look at those apples now. Did n't I tell you to pick 
out the most decayed ones ? but you will persist in tak- 
ing the best. 

Mrs. F. If they were any worse thej would be unfit 
to eat, and I suppose these men, out of whom you 
were just boasting you would make money, must have 
food that they can endure. 

Mr. F. Food that they can endure ! A couple of 
strolling beggars, — a pair of — 

(Lizette stains forward angrily, and then retreats, mak- 
ing fierce gestures behind his back.) 

. Mrs. F. How dark it is getting : light the candle, 
Lizette. 

Mr. F. {going to the door and looking out). So it is. 
The sun 's down, and I suppose those great greedy fel- 
lows will be hurrying in to supper. You put on too 
much for dinner, Mrs. Flint. Such men never know 
when to stop. It is a mercy to allowance them. Mercy 
sakes, girl, what are you lighting both candles for? 
Is n't one enough for our purpose ? Do j^ou think I 
shall stand such extravagance ? There ! 

(He extinguishes one of the two candles Lizette has 

lighted.) 

Mrs. F. (aside). He is growing more and more sav- 
ing. What will become of us all ? 

Jenny (wistfully, as she approaches Mrs. F., ivho turns 
aside to icipe her eyes furtively). My dear mother, my 
poor mother ! 

Mr. F. (snappishly). Very dear, indeed, as I have 
found to my cost. (To Mike and Con, who enter blus- 



PARSIMONY. 97 

teringly). O, here you are. You did n't wait long after 
the sun slanted. 

Mike. Faith, and the likes of us would n't be such 
soft ones as that. We are all ready for a good supper. 

Mr. F. O, you are? That's something you are 
always on hand for. "Well, it is n't quite ready, you see. 
Just step out, and split a little of that apple-tree wood. 
{Aside.) Mrs. Flint, don't put your gingerbread on till 
they 've eaten well of the Indian cake. You have n't a 
bit of sense in your management. 

Mike. Split up wood is it yoti 'd be after having us 
do, and upon empty stomachs beside? Och, be jabers, 
it is a hard master you make ! And sure it 's neither 
Con nor meself are boys to be too badly used. Faith, 
an' I think we '11 take leave to-night. Pay us up, and 
.we'll go. 

Mr. Flint {turning upon him ivrathfully). Pay you, 
indeed, you impudent beggar ! If you leave me now, 
not a single farthing will you get. Did n't you agree 
to work on trial ? 

Mike. Faith, for two days, yes ; and never a better 
bargain was made. But we 've been the likes of a week 
working our bones off for ye. Is it niver a bit we 're 
to have for that ? 

Mr. Flint (triumphantly). Xot if you leave me now. 
I see you don't understand the ways of this country. 
You leave me without giving any notice, so I've no 
chance to get some one else in your place. My crops 
suffer. There 's damage. The law will sustain me. If 
you choose to go, why go. But no wages can you re- 
ceive. The law — 

Mike. Och, the law, is it? 



98 PARSIMONY. 

Mr. Flint. Yes, the law. 

Mike. And it 's the law ye appeal to ? 

Mr. Flint. Certainty ; what do you know about it ? 

Mike {shrugging his shoulders with a comical grimace). 
Faith, it 's little enough I know, but there 's Con. He ? s 
a deep one in law. Be jabers, then, I would n't wonder 
if he was a likely match for ye. The law ye shall have. 

Mr. Flint {turning contemptuously to Con, ivho has 
been looking on attentively). Well, sir, what have you 
to say? 

Con {throioing off his disguising ivig, and speaking in 
his natural voice as Will Graham. Jenny shoivs aston- 
ishment. Lizette laughs. The others exhibit amazement). 
I have this to sa}', Mr. Flint. That I think you will be 
very glad to come to an amicable settlement with us 
all, including this lady, who was formerly Mrs. Nye„ 
and her daughters. 

Mr. Flint {bluster ingly) . You j^oung villain. So you 've 
been masquerading for the sake of getting into this 
house. But you will find it won't avail you anything. 
Jenir^, Lizette, go up-stairs this minute, and don't show 
yourselves again, until I have put these fellows off my 
premises. 

Jenny {pleadingly). But, sir. 

Mr. Flint {stamps his foot angrily) . Go, I tell j^ou ! 

Lizette. And I say stay. Jenny, there is something 
important for us to hear. What right has he to order 
us about like little children ? 

Mr. Flint. What right, indeed ! Yf ho gives you a 
home and food and clothes ? AYho keeps you from star- 
vation and beggary ? Go, this moment, or I will -turn 
you out-of-doors. 



PARSIMONY. 99 

(Jenistt turns towards the door Lizette faces him defi- 
antly.) 

Mrs. Flint. But, Mr. Flint, let us hear what expla- 
nation he has to offer. 

Mr. Flint (fiercely) . Do you also defy me ? I will 
turn 3'ou also from niy house. 

Will Graham (sternly). Perhaps it would be the 
wisest thing for Mrs. Flint to allow you to do it. She 
could then free herself from your authority. But I 
fancy it will be }'ou who would beg for her return. Mrs. 
Flint, this man talks of keeping you all from beggary. 
Were you aware that the paper you signed soon after 
you married him, was giving him the power to claim in 
the name of yourself and daughters a large and exceed- 
ingly valuable tract of land in the West, which belonged 
to Mr. Nye? 

Mrs. Flint. Indeed, I was not ; I supposed it was a 
worthless affair. (Turning to Mr. Flint.) You told 
me you should have to pay out more than it was worth, 
for taxes, and therefore I signed what you made me 
believe a relinquishment of it. What does it all mean ? 

Mr. Flint (agitated and angry), I will tell you, 
when these men have vacated my premises. Be still, 
now, and let me deal with them ! 

Charlie. Not exactly, Mr. Flint. Here's Lizette 
wants me to stand by, and look after her interest. Go 
on. Will. Tell Mrs. Flint the whole. 

Will. The property is worth seventy-five thousand 
dollars since the mining has begun, and that has been 
for four years. This man has appropriated the gener- 
ous income, — not to make you comfortable, but to add 
4 



100 PARSIMONY. 

to his hoarded sum in the banks. He is just negotiat- 
ing for the sale of this valuable property, and would 
then have removed all proof of its source, and defrauded 
your daughters as well as j^ourself. A most fortunate 
chance revealed this fact to me. 

Mr. Flint (passionately). It is a base fabrication. 
Let him produce his proofs, if he can. 

Will (calmly). We have taken good care of that. 
All the important papers in the case have been 
carried over to the squire's office, and duly witnessed. 
We have been compelled to act in this manner, Mrs. 
Flint, to free your daughters from this man's authority, 
and to secure their interests, for, as you know, I think, 
we both have loved them sincerely, and vainly sought 
an opportunity to win your consent to marr^ them. 
This affair, which began in a jesting determination to 
frighten Mr. Flint into consenting to their going to the 
picnic, has had most happy and momentous results. 

(Mr. Flint, loith a howl of rage, rushes out.) 

Mrs. Flint. I am so amazed, I can hardly realize 
anjiiiing — I don't know — 

Lizette (joyfully). But I do ; I know one thing that 
is very comfortable, and another that is thoroughly 
delightful. We are not poor, or dependent upon Mr. 
Flint, and we shall go to the picnic sure. 

Charlie. With me, Lizette? And faith, me darlint, 
ye '11 go with 3-er own Micky ? 

Lizette (laughing merrily). O, you awkward, comical 
fellow ! And so you thought 3^ou could cheat me ? I 
knew you the first minute I set my eyes on you ! But 
you 've been a precious old Mike, to be sure. Since 



PARSBIOXY. 101 

you 've found all that money for me, I do believe you '11 
have to help take care of it. 

Will. And what says Jenny ? 

Jenny. If mother consents — 

Mrs. Feint. My dear girls, I do indeed rejoice in 
your emancipation from this dreary, niggardly life. I 
am still so excited and bewildered, I do not know what 
is best. I am thinking about Mr. Flint. I have mar- 
ried him, he is my husband — and — " 

Mr. Flint {rushing in with distracted looks). I will 
confess eve^thing. I ask your pardon ; I did n't mean 
so bad in the beginning — but it grew upon me — the 
more money I saw, the more I wanted. But I '11 prom- 
ise to do better. And after all I 've been kind to you. 
I might have been worse. Say }'ou'll forgive me. 

Mrs. Flint. I will try. This money that rightfully 
belongs to my daughters, must be given to them 
promptly. My own portion shall be secured so that I 
can spend it freely, to secure the comforts a true home 
must have, to be a happy and contented one. You shall 
share it with me, and learn to see its beauty. It shall 
be my happy task to teach } T ou that wise expenditure is 
the truest econoury. Lizette, dear, light the other can- 
dles, and let us prepare a more bountiful supper. 

( They all bustle around joy f ally. Flint watches Lizette 
light two candles, and approach her taper to another, 
and steps forward uneasily.) 

Mr. Flint. Lizette, Lizette, two is enough ; we can 
see beautifully now. Don't light airy more. 

Mrs. Flint (archly). Take care, sir. There is the 



102 PARSIMONY. 

besetting sin again. Remember, if you snare my home 
and fortune, you must learn to conquer it. 

Charlie. I do believe that 's the source of all his 
evil, as she says. He would n't be such a man as he is, 
but for that besetting sin — 

Mr. Flint. What are you talking about ? 

Charlie. Sure enough (turns to audience). What are 
we talking about ? And what is the besetting sin ? 



CONJURATION. 



A CHARADE OF FOUR SYLLABLES, IN OPERETTA. 



AIRS. 



Away the Bowl, or Away to School, Temperance Song 
Book. — Yankee Doodle. — The Hero, Song Book for School- 
room. — Swiss Boy, or School Boy, Fits? School Song Book. 
— Dixie's Land. — When Johnny Comes Marching Home. — 
Auld Lang Syne. — Blue-Tailed Fly. — Bound, Scotland's 
Burning. — O, dear, What can the Matter Be. — The Village 
School, Fitz 9 American School Song Book. 

CHARACTERS. All Girls, if Required, 

Miss Prim, Teacher. 

Miss Pert, Scholar. 

Bridget. 

Lady Visitors. 

Other Scholars. ' 

Conjurer. 

Jew. 



First Syllable, Con. 

Scene First. — School-room at a Girls 9 Seminary. 
Pupils at their seats studying. 

Air. — "Away the Bowl," or " Away to School." 
All sing. Our youthful hearts for knowledge burn, 
So we 're, so we 're at school ; 
But then for play we also yearn, 

There's none, there's none at school. 



104 CONJURATION. 

Our teacher sternly checks our play, 
She calls us rude (she 's cross to-day) ; 
It's " con our books," it's "con our books," 
It's " con," it's " con" alway. 

Enter teacher, Miss Prim, who takes seat at the desk. 

(They all go to work, making a humming noise with their 
lips, and ticking with pencils on their slates. Teacher 
presently raps. Glass rises, and forms before her.) 

Air. — " Yankee Doodle." 

Teacher. What river is 't that Egypt's sand 
Transforms to smiling valley ? 

(Head girl, biting her lips, and looking stupid, then 
sings on.) 

The Mississippi ? or the strand ? 

O, dear me ! Danube maybe. 
All in chorus. 

O, what ignorance you show ! 

Every one sees better. 
It is the Nile, as we all know, 

At the foot we set her. 

(Head girl takes her place at the foot.) 

Teacher. What wondrous works, of ancient art, 
That same old land exhibits. 
Who'll tell me quickly? Yes, Miss Dent. 
Miss Dent. The Pyramids. (Teacher.) A merit. 

Teacher. That 's the way I like to hear 
Answers spoken quickty. 
And now the next : speak up, my dear, 
Mind you listen strictly. 



COX JURATION. 



105 



Teacher. "VYTiat small seas in fair Europe lie? 
Pupils. North, Azof, Black, and Baltic. 

Teacher. And what wide water Afric nigh ? 
Pupils. The Med'terranean call it. 

Chorus. 

Teacher. Very well : now, nearer home, 

"What ' s our largest city? 
Pupils. New York, we 're told where'er we roam, 

None the less a pit}'. 

Teacher. "What institution is our pride, 

New England's boast to tell o'er? 

Miss Pert. I don't know anything beside 
The Jubilee of Gilmore. 

Chorus. 

Teacher. Now, Miss Pert, you seize the chance 
Always to be jesting ; 
'T is common schools so fast advance 
That there 's no contesting. 

Air. — " The Hero." (Song Book for School-room.) 

Teacher. Now that will do, go take your seats, 
No idlers here be lurking ; 
Committee session shortly meets, 
And while I'm gone, be working. 

(TJiey take their seats, and she goes out.) 

Same air. 

3Iiss Pert. O dear, O dear ! there 's nothing yet 
But work, and study ever. 
A lesson now at play I'll set, 
These cobwebs it might sever. 



106 CONJURATION. 

(She produces an orange and tosses it up toivards the 
ceiling. They all spring up to catch it, vjith shouts and 
laughter. One girl passes around a paper of candy. 
Teacher is heard without. Miss Pert hushes them. 
When Miss Prim looks in, they are all sitting demure- 
ly, buzzing aivay over their lessons.) 

First Air. — " Away the Bowl." 
Teacher. 

I thought I heard unseemly noise ; 

I'm glad, I'm glad to see 
Young ladies here, and not rude boys, 
Still try thus mild to be. 

Examination comes, you know, 
To Diligence the prize must go ; 
Then con your books, then con your books, 
Then con, then con alw T ay. 

(She goes out. Scholars, with looks of vexation, sing 
their first chorus.) 

Our teacher sternly checks our play, 
She calls us rude (she's cross to-day) ; 
It's " con 3'our books," it's " con your books," 
It's " con," it's " con" alway. 

[Curtain falls. 



Second Syllable, Jew. 

Curtain rises on school-room again, at intermission. 
Scholars sitting about in groups. Some reading, some 
talking, others eating, and passing apple about, in 
school-girl fashion, for " bites." 

Miss Pert comes rushing in. 



CONJURATION. 107 

Air. — " Swiss Boy." 
Here's good luck, here's good luck; now my girls, 

merry g*rls, 
"Where 's your pence ? here 's a chance worth your curls, 
For the Jew and pack are on their way, 
O, the sugar-plums we '11 have to day. 
For he comes, for he comes, good old Jew, pedler Jew, 
Who 's saved pence, silver dimes ? lend me, do. 

(A little flutter of excitement among the pupils. All be- 
gin to search their pockets. One girl finds a coin tied 
in the end of her handkerchief and holds it tip tri- 

umphantly. 

Same Air. 
One girl. — 

What good news, what good news ! now I '11 have rib- 
bon blue, 

For nry hair ribbon blue, would n't you? 
Another. — 

And some pins and thread — we 're out of all, 
What a lucky thing that he should call ! 
AIL — 

Here he comes ! here he comes ! the good Jew, pedler 
Jew, 

Who 's saved pence, lucky pence that will do ? 

Enter Pedler, who can be a tall girl with a long cloak 
on, a peaked hat pushed low over her forehead, and 
false beard tied over her chin. A large pack on her 
back or arm. 

Air. — " Dixie's Land." 

Jeio. — 

O, here 's yer silks, and fringe, and ribbin, 
Cheaper too than gives me libing, 



108 CONJURATION. 

Come along — along — to me, Pedler Jew, 
Here 's collars too, of dainty laces, 
Trimming for such pretty faces, 
Come along — along — to me, Pedler Jew. 

Chorus. 
Jew. — 

What '11 you have now, of old Isaac, 

Just see, just see ! 
The costly pack has yet no lack, 
'T would serve for New- Year parties ; 
Of me, of me, come buy, my darlies. 

And here 's the sweets of the land of cand} r , 
Bright in hue as vest of dandy. 

Come and buy, come buy — of me, Pedler Jew, 
Come taste it once, bi.it only try it, 
No one else I'd let come nigh it. 

Girls (snatching candy). — 

We will tty, we'll try, O, yes. Splendid treat ! 

Chorus. 

Splendid treat he brings — old Isaac, 

O yes, O yes. 
O, Pedler Jew, we all love you, 
We 're glad to see old Isaac. 
(Giving money.) 
Miss Pert. — 

Take these, take these, and let us have our candy, 
O, goodness sake ! for here comes the meddler, 
Here 's Miss Prim — she hates a pedler. 



CON JURATION . 109 

All.— 

Haste away, away, away, Pedler Jew ! 
More fiercely still a Jew she scorneth, 
'Gainst your trade she daily warneth, 

Haste away, away, away, Pedler Jew. 

{Chorus sung while all are scrambling about.) 

All.— 

In the pack the bundles tumble, 

Be quick, be quick ! 
O, Isaac old, we fear you 're sold, 
Here comes the broom and Bridget ; 
Be quick, be quick, be quick, and fly, poor midget ! 

J r EW is flying off the stage. Girls shouting with laughter, 
and Bridget just coming ivith broom. 

\_CuHain falls. 



Third Syllable, Ea. 

School again. Miss Prim at blackboard draicing the 
musical staff. She makes the note Ba. 

Air. — " When Johnny comes marching home." 

Miss Prim. Young ladies, tell what note is this? 

Class. 'T is Pa, 't is Ra. 

Miss Prim. And who won't now its letter miss? 

Class. T is C, 't is A. 

Miss Prim. 'T is C ! 't is A ! who ever heard 

Such heedless answer? All have erred, 

"Well, upon my word 

You 've quickly grown wondrous dull. 



110 CONJURATION. 

(She makes another note.) 

Miss Prim. And now commence the simple scale. 

Class. That 's Do, that 's Do. 

Hiss Prim. That 's right, and now be sure not fail. 

(She makes another.) 

Class. That *s Ra, that 's Ea. 

Miss Prim. You surely should the letter know ; 

If Do is C, what letter so 

For the next should come ? 

What scholar is laughing now ? 
Class. O, please, Miss Prim, 't was Lillie Pert. 

Miss J^ert. O dear, O dear ! 

I only laughed at what I thought 

So queer, so queer ! 
That Delia Ray, if but arra}-ed 
In letters there, would give us aid. 
For we all should see, 
With Ray must go letter D. 

9 (Scholars all laugh out.) 
Air. — " Auld Lang Syne." 

Miss Prim. — 

I wonder now, Miss Pert, that you 

Dare thus my grace offend ; 
You choose to make your jests anew, 

Though I have begged you '11 mend. 

If you can make the pupils laugh, 

'T is all 3^ou care to do ; 
For punishment, sing o'er this staff 

Ten minutes through and through. 



CONJURATION . Ill 

(She writes the scale on the staff.) 

(Miss Pert begins to sing the scale. A knock outside. 

Enter grand lady vis>to/s.) 
(Miss Pert keeps on singing the scale. Miss Prim tries 
to stop her, but the singer icill not notice her signs, 
but rises higher and higher in her notes. Visitors hold 
their hands to their ears.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Fourth Stllable, Shux. 

The empty school corridor. Miss Pert tiptoeing along, 
her hands full of jiarcels, — a pie, cake, and apples or 
oranges. Her shoes creak, and she stops, sets down 
her budgets, and with comical gestures of alarm, pulls 
off the slippers and tucks them in her pocket. Then 
she gathers vp her bundles and sings. 

Air. — ''Blue-Tailed Fly." 

I We found the pie, I Ve got the cake ; 
If only Bridget will not wake, 
We '11 have our party in jolly style, 
But now I find it worth my while 
To take good care that I shall shun 
Our good Miss Prim, and Biddy Dunn, — 
To take good care that I shall shun, 
The meeting either one. 

(But in %)ctssing on she trips and drops the knives and 
spoons from one bundle, which makes a great clatter. 
An outcry is heard from the nearest door. Miss Pert 
darts behind a tall screen that should be standing near. 



112 CONJURATION. 

First one door and then another opens. Miss Prim, 
first commencing the round, then Bridget takes up 
singing alto. TJien another teacher may appearand 
as many scholars as one chooses can keep arriving, 
carrying on the Bound, until it makes a perfect up- 
roar, when curtain falls.) 

Bo und. — " Scotland's Burning." 

Miss Prim, Bridget, etc. — 

What's the matter? what's the matter? 
Who 's there ? who 's there ? 
Thieves ! thieves ! call the watchman ! 
Call the watchman ! thieves, thieves, etc. 



The Whole Word. 

A conjurer's room made to look as weird as possible. 
The conjurer can be a tall girl with darkened skin, 
high black turban surmounted by some quaint orna- 
ment, long sweeping skirt, and full black mantle covered 
with cabalistic figures in blood-red cloth, or of tinsel. 
Let there be a looking-glass frame hanging behind him, 
with cloth instead of glass, so it can be removed. He 
stands by a table where certain chemical apparatus 
might be effectively introduced, — say a globe of water, 
which shall be made to change color instantaneously, 
or to grow phosphorescent under his incantations. 

Comes a knock at the door which he, or a black page, 
may answer. Enter Miss Pert and three other 
school-girls. The conjurer retreats behind a black 
screen. The girls look around timidly. 



CONJURATION. 113 

Air. — u dear, What can the Matter Be," or " Poor Mary." 

31iss Pert. dear, what can the matter be ? 

Girls, girls, how the room whirls with me ! 
Each face in all its pallor see, 
Shameful, if we 're afraid ! 
Chorus. 
O, no, it's too foolish, we must not be frightened ! 
Our fortunes we seek, of our doubts to be lightened ; 
This queer-looking place but our fun should have 
heightened, 
And so vou shan't one be afraid. 

Other girls. 0, dear, what can the matter be? 
Dear Lil., we are so weak in knee, 
Or else we would make haste to flee, 
Fortunes are terrible things. 
Miss Pert and all. — 

O, no, it's too foolish, we must not be frightened ! 
Our fortunes we seek, of our doubts to be lightened ; 
This queer-looking place but our fun should have 
heightened, 
And so we won't one be afraid. 

Enter Conjurer, with upraised wand. Miss Pert, fol- 
lowed by the others^ advances and holds out coin on 
her palm. 

Air. — " The Village School." (Fitz* American School Song 

Book.) 

Methodist, or " Band of Music." 

We have come for our fortunes, 

"We have come for our fortunes, 

We .have come for our fortunes, 

With silver bright and true. 



114 CONJURATION . 

And O, please to tell us, 
And O, please to tell us, 
And O, please to tell us, 
Just as quickly as will do. 

( The Conjurer pores a moment over her hand, crossing 
it with the silver. Then he goes to the table, and 
makes mysterious motions there and wild passes with 
his wand. The water in the globe may now be changed 
by the chemical process, or a blue light burned, or any 
such experiment performed. Then he tvill wave his 
wand before the mirror, whose cloth must be drawn 
away by some one behind, revealing a tableau either 
of a handsome lad, or a very old lady in cap and spec- 
tacles, or a mother with a baby face pressed against 
hers, or a bridal scene. 

[Curtain falls. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 



AN ALLEGORY. 



Airs. — 34th Exercise, Page 15 Emerson's Singing School. — 
When up the Mountain Climbing, Emerson's Singing School 
or Vocalist, best air. — Work with a Will, Sabbath Songs for 
Children's Worship. — Every Little Helps, Sabbath Songs for 
Children's Worship. — Pleasant Pastures, Sabbath Songs for 
Children's Worship. — Work the Joy of Life, Sabbath Songs 
for Children's Worship. — The Herald Angels, Sabbath Songs 
for Children's Worship. — Sweet Hour of Prayer, Sabbath 
Songs for Children's Worship. — Lightly Row, Sabbath Songs 
for Children's Worship. — There is a Happy Land, Sunday 
School Hymn and Tune Book. — The Golden Rule, Sunday 
School Hymn and Tune Book. — I rise to seek the Light, Sun- 
day School Hymn and Tune Book. — Sweet Hour of Prayer, 
Sunday School Hymn and Tune Book. — Peacefully Sleeps, 
Sunday School Hymn and Tune Book. — Heaven is our Home, 
Sunday School Hymn and Tune Book. — Beautiful Land of 
Rest, Sunday School Hymn or Temple Choir. — Joyfully, Joy- 
fully, Sunday School Hymn or Temple Choir. — Maiden, weep 
no more, Vocalist. — Portuguese Hymn. — Lightly Row. 

CHARACTERS. 
Male. Female* 

Youthful Pilgrim. Sister Pilgrim. 

Aged Pilgrim. Hope. 

Faith. 
Pleasure's Votaries, Charity. 

four youths. Penitence. 



116 THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 

Male. Female. 

Pleasure. 
Ambition. Four Votaries. 

Glory. Mourner. 

2 Masked Attendants. Vanity. 

2 Veiled Companions. 
Virtue. 

Religion. Angel. 

Philanthropy. Beggar Child. 

4 Small Boys. 4 Small Girls. 



Scene First. — Children at play in rear of stage, toss- 
ing cowslip balls, blowing bubbles, etc. Enter Youth 
and Maiden as Pilgrims. 

Youth. — 

Come, then, my sister, ah, what happy fate is ours ; 

Let us not linger, though so fair these flower-wreathed 

bowers. 
Behold, before us widens now the winding road, 
And glad Hope beckons on to Glory's bright abode ! 
No longer fettered, every gate unbarred ; 
Our free limbs ne'er by childish weakness marred ; 
Our pilgrimage triumphant end must surely see, 
O, sister, think how near the goal may be ! 

Maiden. — 

'Tis beautiful, O brother, and my eager heart 

Beats high with hope. Yet pause a moment, for we 

part 
Forever here with childhood's merry pla}~s and toys : 
O, are we sure the world will give as guileless joys ? 



THE PILGRDI'S CHOICE. 117 

A moment let me linger, just to say farewell, 
For every little nook its own sweet tale can tell. 
Each humble pebble, every drooping bud is dear ; 
TThat lies beyond more precious than we part from 

here? 
Youth. — 

What lies beyond ? 0, foolish child indeed, — behold ! 
The great world's triumphs, glories, prizes manifold. 
And we have fitting part in all its mighty plan. 
How all my pulses thrill to know that there I '11 be a 

man. 
And even here I seem to catch the battle-cry 
That calls me to heroic deeds. O haste, O fly ! 
Maiden. — 

Nay, hark a moment, hear the children sing, 
How sweetty in my ears the silver echoes ring ! 

(Children, who are playing in left rear of stage, sing.) 
Air. — " Lightly Row." 
To and fro, to and fro, 
Toss the golden cowslip balls ! 
Laugh and sing, laugh and sing ! 
Never frown at all ! 

Let us kind and pleasant be, 
Love each other tenderly : 
Laugh and sing, laugh and sing, 
All the happy day. 
Maiden. — 

How innocent and glad of heart are they, 
As we so oft have been. O, brother, stay 
To breathe one tender sigh, one fond adieu, — 
O, happy childhood, must we part from you? 



118 THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 

{Both sing.) - 
Air. — 34th Exercise, page 15 Emerson's Singing School. 
O, then, farewell sing we, with smiles and with tears, 
To thee, happy childhood, thine innocent years ! 
We turn, happy childhood, we turn far away, 
For calls world of working, calls loudly to-day. 
We take, gladly take we, the pathway that leads 
Afar, happy childhood, o'er life's battle-fields. 
Our hearts, through their sorrow your sweet joys to 

leave, 
Still" staff of the pilgrim are brave to receive. 

Youth and Maiden make their exit. Children gather 
together, looking after them, and sing. 
Air. — " There is a Happy Land." 
There go the happy pair, 

Far, far away. 
What scenes of brightness there, 

Who, who can say? 
O, we shall sometime grow 
Old enough to follow so, 
Now we are children small, 

Wait, wait we all. 

We, too, our place shall find, 

There, there at length. 
When unto limb and mind, 

Comes, comes their strength. 
O, then, we'll follow too, 
Where the bright world beckons you ; 
Now we are children small, 

Wait, wait we all. 

[^Curtain falls. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 119 

Scene Second. — The Pilgrims on their way. Youth 
looking eagerly forward, Maiden longingly behind. 

Youth. — 

O, how lovely, my sister, this bright world appears ! 

Then wherefore look backward with sighing and tears ? 

For our childhood has passed from us now evermore, 

And free as an eagle our spirits may soar. 

(Points.) 

Look before us, and see on yon far, lofty peak 

The glittering towers ; there home may we seek, 

And there waiteth the crown that a victor may claim, 

0,1 — I must surely win hero's proud name ! 

Maiden. — 

Ah, my brother, your spirit is gallant and bold, 
And pictures grand visions of prowess untold ; 
But I tremble with awe, for I fear that the way 
Hides dangers unnumbered, if heedless we stray. 
O, I long for a guide, or at least for a chart, 
Again as a child would I learn of my part ; 
No strength of my own have I ever believed 

Would safel}' conduct o'er this perilous field. 

m 

Youth (tenderly supporting her). — 

You need not tremble, sister dear ; 
Keep close by me, and never fear. 
My arm shall help when you are weak, 
My voice shall ever courage speak. 

(Singing heard iviihout.) 

Air.—" Work with a Will." {From Sabbath Songs for Chil- 
dren's Worship.) 



120 THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 

{They stand listening ivliile the words are sung.) 
" Work with a Will." 

FI3- along merrily, fly like the wind ; 

Zephyr shall sigh to o'ertake in our flight ; ' 
Sweet are the blossoms our foreheads that bind, 

And entrancing the pleasures unfolding to sight. 
Smiles are the handmaids that wait on our train ; 

And sorrow and trouble far exiled are seen, 
For never our summer must be on the wane, 

Then fly along merrily. Pleasure is green ! 

Maiden. — 

What silver sweetness tinkles in each merry note ! 

Methinks the very flowers and sunbeams find 
A voice to sing, in which all wondrous raptures float, 

And in Elysium trance our senses bind. 

Youth (looking off) . — 

'T is wondrous ! lo, I see a tall triumphal car 

All lavishly bedecked with garlands fair ; 
A glitter too, with gems as bright as midnight star, 

And lovely forms are dancing round it there. 

O, let us haste to join the merry train, 

Come, sister, ere it vanishes again ! 

Enter Aged Pilgrim. 

Maiden. — 

Sta} T , yonder comes a form of venerable grace, 
A pilgrim hoary. See how calm his peaceful face. 
He long hath journeyed, and his ripening age 
Returns him here, where we but ope the page. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 121 

speak with us, good pilgrim, wilt thou wisely tell 
What joys are safe abiding, and what paths end well? 
Say if we need to watch with jealous care, 
And are there guides to point to lurking snare ? 

Aged Pilgrim. — 

Fair greeting to you ! Youthful travellers, all hail ! 

It stirs my languid pulse to see young feet 
Set forth upon the winding path, whose mystic trail 

My own have followed long, through wild and street 
Down towards the darkening vale. Say you, — you'll 
prize 
Eventful story that gives warning — counsel wise ? 
Ah, Youth is wild and headstrong, — know I not too 

well, 
In vain for 3-ou Life's solemn moral shall I tell ; 
Yet heed the monitors you '11 find at the dividing path, 
As you would have your sun descend in peace and not 
in wrath. 

(He sings.) 

Air. — " Every Little Helps." (Sabbath Songs.') 

Ah, yes, there is a trusty guide, 

There is a holy chart, 
Will safety lead through perils wide, 

And keep you pure in heart. 
You need not search, they come to you, 

Only their aid receive ; 
Only your hearts with faith renew, 

Shun snares that tempters weave. 



122 THE pilgrim's choice. 

Youth {looking off all the time). — 
We cannot stay to listen long, 

Old age is garrulous and slow ; 
O, haste my sister, for the throng 

Pound Pleasure's car have turned to go. 

{He leads his sister towards the left. Aged Pilgrim re- 
treats to the right , and then turns back, and repeats.) 

Beware ! full soon the untried paths divide, 
One gay with flowers, and one a narrow way ; 

Remember Wisdom seeks a trusty guide ; 

Pause at the shrine, for worthy guidance pray. 

[Exit Aged Pilgrim. 

Maiden. — 

His words are wise and kind ; dear brother, see ! 
'T is just beyond dividing paths must be. 
And this, perchance, must be the very shrine, 
O, let us ask if there is help divine ! 

{She kneels before a curtained tent in the rear centre. 
The curtains part silently, shoioing tableau of Faith, 
Hope, and Charity, each with their separate emblem. 
After a moment's tableau they come fonoard, and 
sing together.) 

Air.— "Pleasant Pastures." {Sabbath Songs.') 

Happy are the pilgrims who early seek the shrine, 
Asking Heaven's guidance on their way. 

Seeking strength that cometh alone from the divine, 
And the staff will always safely sta}\ 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. h 123 



Chorus. 



Hear, O young pilgrims, Faith, Hope, and Love ; 

Trusty companions the}' will prove. 
Cheering Life's shadows, soothing its woe, 
Evil may not harm if but with them you go. 

Maiden. A lovely trio. 0, how blest are we 
If such companions cheer our way ! 

Youth {to Hope) . — 

Fair spirit, thou hast smiled before on me, 
And promised wondrous joys to fill my day. 
If I but forward pressed to grasp the prize, 
You said its shining gems should glad my eyes. 
Yes, you are welcome guide, delightful friend, 
Come with us always to our journey's end ! 

Hope. — 

Alas ! alone I am not safe for mortal's guide, 

Unless my sisters check nry flight ; 
My airy pinions soar too loftily and wide, 

Your dizzy brain would fall from right. 
Trust Faith. She with the steadying cross 

To sta} r Youth's giddy, thoughtless pace ; 
She with the Book of Light, where mortal loss 

Oft proves best gain in Heav'nly race. 

Faith — 

Come listen then to me, and you may know 

"What precious truths within this book abide. 
The blessed meaning of the cross I '11 show, 

And give safe chart for all the journey wide. 



124 the pilgrim's choice. 

I '11 give to you a never-setting star, 

That beams through darkest night ; 
A lamp to guide your stumbling feet afar, 

A robe to shine above with garments white. 

Charity — 

And I will teach a tender heart 
To melt with fervent glow, — 
Thy brother's need shall claim its part, 
And thine more noble grow. 

I '11 teach thee how to wipe away 

The orphan's bitter tear ; 
To smooth the beggar's dreary way, 
And thus thine own to cheer. 

(Hope stands resting on her anchor, with one hand 
stretching a spray of bright flowers towards them. 
Charity is in the centre, holding up her purse, or cor- 
nucopia, and Faith, leaning upon her cross, opens the 
Bible. Youth at the right, and Maiden at the left, 
half turning towards them, make tableau, while 
Pleasure's chorus is heard without, — ) 

" Fly along merrily, fly like the wind." 

(Enter the car with Pleasure, — a beautiful girl, gem- 
bedecked and flower-wreathed, — standing up, holding 
reins formed of tinsel ribbons, or garlands, which are 
attached to several youths dressed fancifully, and gar~ 
landed. Lovely girls, tossing bright balls, or blowing 
bubbles, dance beside the car.) 

(Pleasure and her devotees sing, — ) 

" Fly along merrily, fly like the wind," &c. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 125 

( The youthful Pilgrims turn towards the car with smiles 
of delight. Faith, Hope, and Charity look sorrow- 
fully upon them. The latter sing,) 

Air.—" Work the Joy of Life." {Sabbath Songs.) . 

O, dear ones, beware ! a siren is singing, 
Luring thee hence from the good we were bringing ; 
Turn ye away from the spells she is flinging, 
Madness like hers sure in ruin will end. 
'T is but pure spirit, to angel may flower, 
Heaven alone gives its strengthening power ! 
But with Love and Faith and Hope safely guiding, 
Will all be well — never will woe betide. 

(Pleasure and her Votaries sing.) 

Air. — u When up the Mountain Climbing." {Emerson's Sing- 
ing School.) 

Come with fair Pleasure hieing, we'll sing away the 

hours, 

La, la, la, &c. 
And gladsome as the fairies we '11 dance in fragrant 
bowers, 

La, la, la, &c. 
We '11 thread the valley shining with mists of golden 

glow, 
We ? 11 drink the rich ambrosia the honey cups bestow : 
La, la : &c. 

We '11 shun the weary marches, we '11 fly from sombre 
care, 

La, la, la, &c. 
Like butterflies we '11 frolic with all things bright and 
fair, 

La, la, &c. 



126 THE pilgrim's choice. 

4 

In life the pleasures only we'll quaff with laughing lip, 
Alone the wine that sparkleth we '11 gayly, gayly sip. 
La, la, &c. 

(Pleasure extends a hand to the youth, who accepts it, 
and springs lightly into the car, which moves on. The 
maiden looks a moment backward wistfully, then 
slozvly follows the car. Faith, Hope, and Charity are 
looking down- sorrowfully.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene Third. — Enter Maiden Pilgrim, alone and un- 
happy, her white robe torn and stained, her hair dis- 
hevelled. 

O, woe is me ! what bitter strait is this? 

How bleeds my heart in woe ! 
Where now the joy of Pleasure's promised bliss ? 

Alone, forlorn I go. 
The blinding storm that swept away 

False Pleasure's helpless throng, 
Hath torn me from my brother's side, 

A wand'rer lost and wrong. 

O, could I but my steps retrace, 

And reach Faith's saving cross, 
But catch one glimpse of Hope's bright face, 

I might redeem my loss. 
But now I am alone, 0, I am all alone ! 

Enter Penitence. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 127 

Penitence. — 

My name is Penitence. I always hear 

The faintest whisper of the soul 
That turns unto me earnestly : Come near, 

And say what billows round thee roll, 
And what the boon you would implore. 

Maiden. 0, at the shrine place me once more ! 

Penitence. — 

Nay, better far than that, I '11 call them hence. 

The gentle spirits eagerly respond. 
But freely here confess your sad offence, 
And the}' '11 appear with greeting fond. 
Come then, O gracious trio ! Faith, Hope, and Love ! 
A wayworn wanderer calls, your help requires, 
Come, touch her heart once more with sacred fires ! 

Enter Faith, Hope, and Charity, and come to her side. 

Maiden (to them). — 

O, pity and forgive ! I own my sin, 

To Folly's wastes false Pleasure led me on ; 
Teach me to wash awa}- the stain within, 

Teach me how duty's path once more is won. 

(Penitence, Faith, Hope, and Charity sing.) 

Air. — " The Herald Angels.'' (Sabbath Songs.) 

Lo, my sisters, well ma}- we 
Trust in her sincerity. 
Lead the penitent away, 
Back into the narrow way. 



128 THE pilgrim's choice. 

Chorus. 
Whiten, all ye stains that mar, 
With the tears were shed afar. 
Heal, O bruised wounds that pain ! 
She has claimed our help again. 

{They lead her away. Enter the Pilgrim Youth, in hot 

haste.) 

Whither have the figures vanished ? 

Heard I not sweet singing ? 
Weary, bruised, and heart-famished, 

Folly's curse is ringing 
Ever in my ears — a blister 

Was her kiss of madness. 
Sorest grief of all, my sister, 

Losing your sweet smile of gladness. 
Could I find you, only find you, 
Happily in dut}^s path I 'd mind you. 

Enter Ambition, Glory, and hoo masked attendants. 
All in glittering armor. ' They sing. 

Air. — " Maiden, weep no more. ■ ( Vocalist.) 

Glory leadeth, follow me, noble youth, follow me, fol- 
low me, 
Glory leadeth, crowned will be — gallant leader he. 
Who is there will follow me, follow me, follow me ? 
Victor of the field is he, bend to him the knee — 
Honors wait him — lead the wa} r , lead the way, 
Do not linger plodding here, do not idly sta}-, 
Come, brave youth, come thou with us, gladly come, 

gladly come, 
Hero of our band to be, leader in our home. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 129 

Pilgrim, how can sorrow grieve ? Glory's path waiteth 

thee, 
Pilgrim, rouse to noble strife. Pilgrim, hither flee. 
Glory leads — Ambition follows. "What the spell that 

„ we shall weave thee, 
Pilgrim, knightly armor see ! Pilgrim, come with me ! 
Young Pilgrim. — 

Ambition ! Glory ! those are names to stir 

E'en sluggish blood. Lead on, bold hearts ! 
Long have I yearned to feel the battle whirr, 

To thrill with fiery rage that starts 
A hero's valor — why, to win the crown 

That binds a victor's brow, I '11 dare 
All that the wildest storms ma}' waft me down. 
Lead on ! bold heart as yours I bear. 

Enter from the other side. Virtue, Philanthropy, and 

Religion (males), with outstretched, hindering hands. 
Virtue. — 

Forbear, rash mortal ; pause thee now to think 

What deadly draught the sparkling foam may hide. 
Hold, ere too late, so deeply may you drink, 

Its curse forever shall with you abide. 
Glory has dazzling smile — Ambition shows 

Audacious look and plausible intent ; 
But he who rashly follows, yields to spell 

More deadly than most poisoned arrow sent. 

Philanthropy. — 

Behold their masked companions ! heedless youth, 

With them you peril thus your deathless soul ; 
Virtue has pointed you then lack of truth, 

Philanthropy can show their dreary goal ; 



130 THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 

Ambition's mates are Selfishness and Fraud, 
Though hidden is each hideous face ; 

Bitter remorse "will be your sole reward, 
Nor can their spell }^our scars efface. 

Youth. — 

I will not heed you. Can I be deceived 

So vilely, that I shall not know 
When I have base companions thus received? 
Ambition's call is noble — lo ! 
. I answer gladly. Prouder still to bear 
Bright Glory's standard on, I haste 
To dub nryself a knight. Such fare 
As suiteth them will please my taste. 

(Virtue, Philanthopy, and Religion sing .) 
Air.— "The Golden Rule." 

Presuming youth, presuming youth, 

Where will thy follies end ? 
Dost thou not know the gloss of truth 
May Error's works attend ? 

Our warning heed, our warning heed, 

Ere yet too late 3^011 weep ! 
For Glory's passions fiercely feed, 
And Conscience drug to sleep. 

Unscrupulous to win his ways, 

Aspiring man foregoes 
The innocence of early days, 

The peace that virtue knows. 

Our warning heed, etc. 

(Glory, Ambition, etc., sing.) 



THE PILGRDi'S CHOICE. 131 

Air.— " I rise to seek the Light." 

Glory and Ambition, etc. — 

You hear what babbling meddlers say, 

We scorn to answer aught, 
We only say that far away 

There shines the prize you sought. 
There shines the prize, with wondrous light, 

And waiteth for the brave, — 
We hasten thither. Art thou knight 
Beneath our banner's wave? 
Chorus. 
Youth. I go, I go, I go with you as knight, 
All. He goes, he goes, he goes with us as knight. 

(They buckle on a glittering armor upon the Youth, and 
give him a sword.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene Fourth. — Enter Maiden, attended by Faith, 
Hope, Charity, and Penitence.) 

(The latter sing.) 
Air. — " Sweet Hour of Prayer." 
Pilgrim of Hope, sweet child of Love, 
Faith's trusting charge, our gentle dove> 
No longer now the tempest's wrath 
Sends all its frowns about thy path. 
In meekness own the glad relief, 
And see how Virtue exiles grief, 
How safe escaped from tempter's shape 
Are they who guidance seek in prayer. 
5 



132 the pilgkim's choice. 

Same air. 

Maiden sings. — 

Dear guides of mine, dear guides of mine, 

Who Ve led me from your sacred shrine, 

Safe through the thorny wilds of sin, 

By the calm rivers gliding in, 

Where peaceful pastures gently spread, 

And happy flocks are kindly led, 

Ungrateful were I not to own 

The wiser path your love hath shown. 

Enter a poor child crying. Maiden goes to it quickly. 

Maiden. Why do 3^011 weep, dear little child? 
And why alone dost wander wild, 
O'er these wide paths of hill and dale? 
Dost thou not fear lest harm assail ? 

Child. I have no friends, an orphan lone, 
No one will listen to my moan, 
And I am hungry now for bread, 
]\ly feet are sore with thorny tread. 

Maiden. — 

Dear little one, go thou with me, 

Thy needs my loving care shall be ; 

O, Charity, I bless thy generous store, 

Thy loving heart I treasure more and more. 

(She gives the child bread, and seats her with tender 

care.) 

Enter Mourner, wrapped in habiliments of woe. She 

sings. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 133 

Air. — a Peacefully Sleeps." (Sunday School Hymn ami Tune 

Book.) 

Mournfully roam I all alone, 
My dear ones lie where sods are sown ; 
Bitter the sorrow that wrings my breast, 
\Yould I might share in their peaceful rest. 
Dreary I go, mournful 1 weep, 
Mournfully, mournfully, mournfully weep. 

Never again their tender eyes 
Turning to mine shall Love surprise ; 
Never again shall each gentle voice 
Gladden my ear, and my heart rejoice. 
Dreary I go, mournfully I weep, 
Mournfully, mournfully, mournfully weep. 

Maiden. — 

Nay, nay, sad mourner. Sorrowful indeed 

Your chastened lot must be. 
But not despairing, since the path doth lead 

Straight onward to that sea 
Which rolls between that mystic land and this, „ 

Where waits Death's bark to bear our souls to bliss. 
O, list to Faith's inspiring song. 

Hear Hope's sweet promises, and rest 
Against the heart Love maketh strong. 

Thy pilgrim way may yet be blest. 

(Hope, Faith, etc., sing two verses from " Heaven is 
our Home" " What though the tempest rage" 
% * There at your Saviour's Side" etc. 



134 the pilgrim's choice. 

Mourner. — 

Sweet maiden, thou hast taught my heart, 

A lesson good and true ; 
Those silent graves in better part, 

Should hope divine renew. 
O, let me journey on my way 

Amidst your happy band ; 
Be useful through my narrow day, 

Thus best my grief withstand. 

Enter Vanity and Pride, with two veiled companions. 

Vanity. — 

Sweet maiden, truly, poor indeed the tribute shown 

To one so beautiful, and full of grace. 
If humble ones like these thine influence can own, 

What joy mayst thou not give unto a race ? 
Come forth to wider fields, and to a grander sphere, 

Move on thy pilgrimage amidst earth's noblest 
throng ; 
Thou canst be queen, e'en midst the fairest and most 
dear, 

Art thou content in this obscurity so long ? 

(Matden looks over to Faith in perplexity. They all 
stand with drooping heads and downcast eyes.) 

Maiden. — 

Thou fillest me with new, perplexing thoughts, 

I have believed myself unworthy — weak, 
Nor dared to trust myself alone, so fraught 

With impulses that lead astray. Dost seek 
For such a leader in that noble train? 
Methinks thy words are idle, worse than vain. 



THE riLGIUM'S CHOICE. 135 

Vanity. — 

Has no one hinted of the charms that lie 

Within the starry beams of that bright eve ? 

Has no one told how on that cheek so fair 

Lily and rose in lovely strife compare ? 

Fairest of maidens, let us proudly lead thee hence, 

A life of glad distinction mayst thou now commence. 

Maiden. — 

And if I go, may I take with me there 

These gracious guides, this friendless child? 
And shall I be as innocent as fair, 

Nor be involved in perils wild ? 

Vanity. — 

Such low companions ? why, in truth 

Their lack would mock your noble state. 
Come thou where all befits thy youth, 

And crowds admiring close shall wait. 
Leave these poor plodders to their humble way, 
For thee waits grander life — more brilliant day ! 

Maiden. — 

Now do I see that you would tempt me wrong. 

What, leave the help most surely makes me strong? 

No — bitterly I rued my sin before, 

I '11 wander from the narrow path no more. 

Scarce can I see in yours a noble aim, 

Pray tell me whence you come, and what your name. 

(Vanity steps back discomfited.) 



136 



Faith. — 

She shrinks. I '11 answer for her, since you 've chosen 
well, 

To spurn the fond allurements offered ; know, 
Her name is Vanity : beneath her subtle spell 

Bend many victims, and thus falling low, 
Yield to the baser, more defiling grasp 

Of those wiio follow her with faces veiled. 
"Well for you ne'er her witching hand to clasp, 

For Selfishness and Pride would next assail. 

(Exit Vanity and her companions.) 

Hope. — 

Another tempter vanquished ; dost thou trembling see, 

My angel pilgrim, how beset thy path may be ? 

Maiden, — 

O, wherefore do the} r come in such attractive guise? 
I tremble lest I 3^et shall trust my mortal eyes, 
And fall away in sin. When will my soul be strong, 
To bid defiance to each evil, and all wrong ? 

Faith. — 

Dear heart, with each temptation thrust aside 

New strength is lent, and thrice the courage given 
To battle yet again with sin and pride. 

And does it not avail, the prayer to Heaven ? 

Maiden. — 

I own the just rebuke. There need not be a fear, 

For one who stops to ask for aid above. 
And thus a secret burden will I lighten here, 

Can I not trust nry brother to His love ? 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 137 

Though where he wanders I may never know, 
Nor what the strife that meets his hero way. 

The Father's eye can see. His love can flow 
Around his path, and all its perils stay. 

Mourner (zoJio has been looking off at the right), — 
Some one comes, a warrior armed for fight, 
And on his head he wears a helmet bright. 

Hope. — 

I would not that we here be seen, hide we away, 

Till we have learned what object bringeth him this way. 

{They all retreat behind the curtained recess, which 
formed the shrine of Faith, Hope, and Love, in the 
other scene.) 

Enter the Youth, dressed brilliantly, with a diadem, or 
wreath, on his head, looking agitated and distressed. 

Youth. — 

O, I am sick at heart. Joy does not come. 

What means it, when my wildest dreams 
Are all at last fulfilled? In Gloiw's home, 

A hero crowned, I touch a prize that seems 
When won but idle, worthless thing, that burns 

My weary forehead, and my heart doth weight 
With leaden burden. Wherefore wildly yearns 

My spirit now, as to a nobler state 
Imperilled, lost perchance? O, still, small voice 

Within, thou hast thrown off thy drugged repose ! 
Conscience, it is of thee that I cannot rejoice, 

That all the falseness of rny aim now vilely shows ; 



138 THE pilgrim's choice. 

My clear companion, and my innocence of heart — 
Have I lost both? Vain fool, who held a prize 

Worth more than crowns, or world's applauded part, 
And rushed away, for this — O, blinded eyes ! 

That could not see the nobler heritage bequeathed, 

And left it — to stand here dishonored — though bay- 
wreathed. 

(He tears offcroion and throws it from him.) 

I seem to stand again beside that parting way, 
To see my sister kneel before the shrine to pray. 
Faith, Hope, and Love, each heaven-sent guide 
Were waiting — safe companions for the pathway wide. 

(Covers his face a moment.) 

O, woe is me ! dear Faith, thou safest shield 
Against the deadliest shafts our foes may wield — 
Sweet Hope, divinest Love, what know I now 
Of either virtue ? I, with fevered brow, 
And hot heart schooled unto ambitious ends, 
Frenzied with fiery glow that Glory lends ? 
O, would that I could once iqpre find the shrine, 
Could take my sister's cool, calm hand in mine, 
And kneeling own my bitter sin, 
Praying for truer life to dawn within. 
It almost seems that Hope is near. 
What sweet, soft whisper do I hear ? 

(Passes his hand slowly across his eyes.) 

It almost seems some saint has breathed for me a 

prayer ; 
And holy answer stealeth through the charmed air. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 139 

{He kneels with bowed head.) 

{Curtains part slowly ', revealing tableau o/Faith, Hope, 
Charity in centre, and Penitence and his sister, one 
on either side, with outstretched hands.) 

(Hope, Faith, Charity, and Penitence sing, while 
brother and sister clasp hands.) 

Air. — " Beautiful Laud of Jlest." 

O wanderer dear, forever dear, joyous we bear the voice 
Of straying lamb, our fair flock's pride ! Penitent one, 

rejoice ! 
Thy grievous sin is washed away, by penitential tears 

to-day, 
Forgiven here, forgiven here, more beautiful da}~s are 

near. 
Penitent one, penitent one, O, penitent one, thou 'It sta}-, 
Penitent one, penitent one, penitent one, rejoice ! 
O warrior, now with weapons true, nobler thy aim shall 

be, 
To vanquish self and lust and pride, worthiest strife 

for thee 
The selfish wish, the cruel mind, thou hast forsworn, 

and left behind, 
Forgiven here, forgiven here, more beautiful days are 

near, 
Penitent one, penitent one, more glorious joy thou 'It 

find, 
Penitent one, penitent one, penitent one, rejoice ! 

Maiden. — 

Dear brother, all my being thrills with joy 

To meet thee thus. No more can grief anno}', 



140 THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 

No more can sin assail, and hope to find 
Slavish obedience from your willing mind ; 
(X let us gratefully declare the mercy shown, 
That has looked down from Heaven to claim us for His 
own. 

Youtji.— 

But, dear one, dare I hope that all will be forgiven, 
Dost thou forget the scars hy sin ignobly given ? 
O tell me, can I hope the stain will fade away, 
That makes my guilty soul shrink from the light of 
day? 

Faith. — 

Faith's sacred volume gives assurance sweet, 
Most precious are the promises that greet 
The erring one, who, at the Saviour's feet, 
Comes trustfully to take his humble seat. 

Maiden. — 

Then joyous come, my brother ; without fear 

Anew the pilgrimage commence, and show, 
Repentance that is lasting and sincere, — 

Enter Ambition and train. 

Maiden. — 

Ah, see, the tempter cometh, wilt thon go? 

Dear brother — {clasping his arm.) 

(Faith restrains her.) 
Faith. — 

Nay, na}', the choice is his. His eyes are now un- 
sealed, 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 141 

Let us behold how well or ill his breast is steeled 

Against the tempter's spell that lured before. 

For, doubt you not, they '11 search him o'er and o'er 

For vulnerable spot, and all their arts employ, 

And yet be still. Fire frees the gold from base alloy. 

Ambition to Youth. — 

And wherefore didst thou wander from the revel gay ? 

A brighter crown we brought thee home. 
And lo, we 've found a fairer and more shining way, 

And newer realms to conquer, — come ! 
For lo, the while thy hero-name the people shout, 

Thine enemies, with laugh and sneer, 
Declare thy valiant heart a coward turns about. 

Come, prove the lie with thy good spear ! 

Youth. — 

'T was true — e'en when most wildly fired b}' battle-cry 

I tore amidst the bleeding ranks, and won 
A despot's victory, to build 1113' selfish fortunes high, 
E'en then a coward's heart and mine were one. 
I left the truer, loftier stay, 
Though knowing well your wicked way, 
And dared not then ; but now I say, 
Away, false leader, thou hast lost thy pre}' ! 

No more for me of conquests gained by others' woe, 

No more of plaudits won by wicked arts, 
A wiser guide my humbler, safer path shall know, 
My coward fear forevermore departs. 
I fear not now to bid thee fly, 
Fear thou the vengeance from the sk} r ! 



142 the pilgrim's choice. 

I have unmasked your evil eye. 

Away ! Faith's pilgrim will I live and die ! 

(Ambition waves his hand. Enter Pleasure and her 
votaries, and group on the left, with Ambition and his 
followers.) 

(Faith also waves her cross. Enter from the right, Vir- 
tue, Philanthropy, a,nd Religion, who take their 
places beside Faith, Hope, etc. Youth and Maiden 
come to centre.) 

(Ambition's followers sing.) 

Air. — " Joyfully, Joyfully." 

Come with us, come with us ! canst thou not see 
All the proud triumph that waiteth for thee ? 
Grandeur and rank, and fair Pleasure's delight ! 
Listen now, listen now, princely thy right. 
Hear not reproaches these sober ones speak, 
Pathway of thine is not lowly nor meek, 
Rare is the homage, and brilliant the wa}', 
Come with us, come with us, quickly away ! 

(Repeat if desirable.) 

(Faith's company sings.) 
Air. — " Portuguese Hymn." 

The way hast thou traversed, no word need we speak ; 

You followed with Gloiy, — Ambition came nigh. 
Our pathway is humble, no honors we seek, 

But will of our Father, the Ruler on High. 
No sceptre bejewelled we offer j^ou here, 
But staff of a pilgrim, oft weary and drear. 



THE PILGRIM'S CHOICE. 143 

Not joy of our own, but the good of the race 
And will of our Father our hearts must embrace. 

Yet cometh the moment our way shall be bright, 
Thy pathway is leading to valley of night, 
Where rolleth the billow of Death's solemn flow, 
There Hope, Faith, and Love beside thee may go. 

( The Youth is hastily unbuckling his glittering trappings. 
He flings them at Ambition's feet, and crosses over to 
Faith's side. The Maiden clasps her hands in joy. 
Hope puts a staff into his hand. Charity throws a 
white mantle around him, and Faith lays a golden 
cross upon his arm.) 

Faith. — 

'T is well, O Pilgrim, thou hast turned thy face 

Unto the safe and narrow way. 
Think not it will no sweeter J03-S embrace, 

Nor tremble lest its hardships weigh 
Too heavily. Behold, thy sister's cross 

Already buds and blossoms fair. 
A sweeter gain will come for every loss. 

Mourn not ; the tinsel gaud was Glory's share. 
For thee, thine own good angel holds 

Immortal crown, that thou mayst win 
And wear amidst the fair celestial folds, 

When thou hast safely entered in. 
For once thy mortal eye shall dimly see 
The pictured semblance of what waiteth thee. 

(She points to rear of stage, ivhere near the top an oval 
circle of the scenery must fall away, and show an angel 
holdina a crmvn^i 



144 the pilgrim's choice. 

Tableau. 

(Two Pilgrims in centre, half turning around, and gaz- 
ing in awed delight. Hope, Charity, and Penitence 
beside Virtue, Religion, and Philanthropy. The 
Mourner and Child a little behind them.) 

(Faith next to Pilgrim still pointing.) 

(Ambition's company and Pleasure's votaries in a 
group at the left, discomfited, and abashed.) 

(Angel sings very softly.) 

Air. — " Heaven is my Home." 

Thou art but a traveller there, 

Heaven i* thy home ; 
Nobly thy burden bear, 

Heaven is thy home. 

Eeach thou the beauteous gate ; 
Ransomed thy crown await, 
Endless joy the Christian's fate, 
• Heaven is thy home. 



CINDERELLA. 



A CHARADE OF FOUR SYLLABLES. 

IN TWO ACTS, AND THE WHOLE WOED IN PANTOMIME. 



Act I. Scene I. — Two Syllables, Cin-der. — Mrs. 
Bangtown sitting knitting at a table, on which are 
lighted candle and plate of cake. Knock at the door. 
She opens. Enter Mr. Bangtown, got up in Brother 
Jonathan style, his eye bandaged, the darkey boy, Sin, 
with carpet-bag, behind him. 

Mrs. B. Win*, Solomon Peter Bangtown, is this 
you ? Now, who 'd ever have thought it ? You 've got 
home sooner 'n 3*011 knew for — now hain't you? Don't 
tell me nothing's happened. What ails your eye? 
You ain't killed, nor sick abed — be you? 

Mr. B. Guess not, seeing I 'm up and doing. How's 
all the folks to home ? (He puts aicay his umbrella, and 
takes off his siniout, moving so that Mrs. B. discovers 
Sin behind him. She spi*ings back ivith a scream.) 

Mrs. B. La sakes ! what in the name of the aee of 
'spades is this ? 

Mr. B. {laughing loudly). Ha, ha, ha! Why, I 
should n't wonder if 't was the knave of spades. About 
the right complexion — am't he ? Mrs. Bangtown, this 
is my New-Year's present to you. Put down the car- 



146 CINDERELLA. 

pet-bag, Sin,, and make yourself at home. This is 
Sin, Jeminr^, a hopeful young colored individual I 
picked up. He'll make a purty lively chore-boy for 
you, I reckon. Make a bow, Sin, and show jour man- 
ners. (Sin pulls off his torn hat, makes an awkward 
bow, and then stands scratching his head.) 

Mrs. B. (holds up both hands). A chore-bo}- ! 
And what kind of a name has he got? What's your 
name, you j r oung colored individual ? 

Sin (still scratching his head. Looks over to Mr. 
B.). Hi, now, massa, what dat you call dis chap ? 

Mr. B. Why, Sin, of course. Now, Jemimy, you 
need n't look as scared as if I meant an imp of the 
black gentleman. My, how my eye aches ! It 's all 
along of my eye I came across him. Sin 's only a nick- 
name. 

Mrs. B. Sin's a nickname — what's the whole 
name, then? If it was Sim, I should know it was for 
Simeon, — a good Christian name. I can't think of 
anything but Sinbad, and that's redickerlous for a 
chore-boy of that color. ( While she is talking, Sin slips 
up to the table slyly, and helps himself to apiece of cake. 
Mit. B. is busy ivipn'ng his eye with a huge red handker- 
chief, and sits down, when he discovers what Sin is 
doing; so does Mrs. B., ivhojlies at Sin, box?s his ears, 
and sends him to the corner, rubbing them rue f 'ally. Mr. 
B. laughs a regular guffaio.) 

Mr. B. Well, now, Jemimy, I reckon that darkey 's 
pretty well named, after all. 

Mrs. B. Pretty well nicknamed, you mean. What 
is the hull name, Solomon Peter ? You can be the most 
provokingest man I ever set eyes on. 



CINDERELLA . 147 

Mr. B. Well, now, I reckon I'd better leave that a 
kind of riddle. You 're right smart at guessing, you 
know. I '11 only tell you I named him for what I picked 
him out of, and he picked out of my eye. And speak- 
ing o' that, I do wish you'd look at my eye. It's 
mighty sore. Them pesky cars ! Take the handker- 
chief, Jemimy, and get it out. 'T ain't the first one, 
either. There was one before. That chap, there — 
and that's how you got him all named. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Sin {capering up and down). Ha, ha, hi-yah ! 

Mrs. B. {holding up both hauls). Got that black 
critter out of your eye ! Solomon Peter Bangtown, I 
do believe you 've lost your wits and gone clean crazy, 
I '11 have Dr. Pillicody right over. 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene II. — Last two Syllables. — L. R. (Ella.) 
Mrs. Bangtowx busy putting away her baking. 

Mrs. B. There ! I 've had real good luck, anyhow. 
I know that calve is light as a feather. And the pies 
all come out with just the right brown. Then, the 
cranberry did jel splendidly. I don't believe the min- 
ister gets any better supper, if he goes the parish right 
through. If I that oughtn't say it, 1 do believe it's as 
Solomon Peter says, I 'in a master hand at cooking. 
But it's none too good for our minister, anyhow. I'm 
real proud that he 's coming here instead of going over 
to Deacon Andrews's. I hope that tormented Sin 
won't be up to any of his capers. And where is the 
little scamp nojr, I wonder.' {She goto to the door, and 



148 CINDERELLA. 

calls, raising her voice higher and higher.) Sin, Sin, 
Sin ! (Sin is heard without, racing up to the door.) 

Sin. Yah, yah, missie ; here 's dis chile. (He upsets 
a basket of apples standing by the door.) 

Mrs. B. There, now, 3-ou clumsy, good-for-nothing, 
sinningest Sin that ever — 

Sin. Come out de massa's eye. Ha, ha, hi-yah ! 
Dat ere was de likeliest beam dat de massa '11 eber see 
agin. Dis nig 's clean sure o' dat. Nebber mind, mis- 
sie ; I'll pick 'em right up. (He picks up the apples, 
pocketing half.) 

Mrs. B. What were } r ou doing down by the gate ? 
You did n't move more 'n the post. I heard Mr. Bang- 
town tell you to weed that onion bed. I don't believe 
you've begun the first row — no, I don't. 

Sin. Bress yer heart, missie, yes I hab. Dat's jes' 
what I done — I begun de hull of cm. 

Mrs. B. Begun, and then left them all, I '11 warrant 
that. There, now, do you sit down and pick the rest 
of the goose. I'm going to give it to the minister to 
carry home. Mind you do it as well as it's begun. 
(Sin heaves a great sigh, and rolls his eyes.) What's 
the matter now ? 

Sin. O, missie, I is mighty poorly jes' now. I is in 
want of fresh air ; dat's de fac'. I guess I'll be gwine 
back to de invins. 

Mrs. B. Fresh air, indeed ! I must say you look 
pale. AVhat ails you? 

Sin (hand on heart, eyes rolled up). Dunno, mis- 
sie. Spec I's in lub. 

Mrs. B. You imperdent piece ! don't let me hear 
such talk. Sit down here and pick this goose. I guess 



CINDERELLA. 14& 

I '11 run down to Miss Pry's and let her know the minis- 
ter 's coming here. She '11 be sure to run over to the 
deacon's and tell Miss Andrews. And won't the}' be 
jealous ? 

Sin (brightening up). Miss Pry's? You gwine 
down there, missie? Shan't I go wid yer to tote yer 
basket, or something? — (Aside.) Dat's where my 
lubly charmer libs. 

Mrs. B. I told you to stay here, and have that 
goose nicely picked. (Six sits down and plucks fierce) 'y 
at the feathers.) O, my ! I like to forgot to set out 
that last bottle of my elderberry wine. The minister 
shall have it to carry home with the goose. Don't you 
tear it, Sin ; if you do — (She lifts a threatening hand, 
from which Six shrinks back). 

Sin. La, sakes, missie, no, I won't. 

Mrs. B. Don't you stir out of this room. And you 
might as well be learning your alphabet while you're 
at work. That 's the way George Washington did, and 
Benjamin Franklin, and all them grand folks. (Sue sets 
up a card, with alphabet on it, before him.) There ! you 
ought to love to do it. 

Sin. Glory, missie, so I do. I 'm clar dead in lub 
wid two ob de letters, and can't get beyond, kase of 
'em, — L. R. Dese yere are de sweetest-sounding let- 
ters of de hull. Say, missie, will yer gib a message to 
de lubly colored gal dat libs at Miss Pry's? 

Mrs. B. What's her name? Chloe? Dinah? I never 
can think. 

Sin. Chloe! Dinah! Dem'a names for common 
trash ; and dat lubly creature 's quality folks, shore. 
Her name's de two pootiest letters of dis 3-ere. Hi, 



150 CINDERELLA. 

dat makes nudcler riddle for missie. De two letters ! 
or else de nice French measure dat counts off de shiny 
silk, added to de way-up glory hallelujah note dat's 
next to de top ob de scale. Tell her, will ye, missie, 
dat Sin 's waitm' here for dat same. 

Mrs. B. What nonsense that woolly head can con- 
jure up ! I don't know a thing you mean. Now, mind 
you take care of the house, and don't tear that goose. 
(She goes out, leaving Six plucking at the goose, but he 
drops it the moment the door closes, and goes snnffivg 
around to find the cake. Gomes to the front of stage to 
eat apiece. A knock at the door. Thrusting the cake 
into his pocket, and swallowing down what is in his 
mouth with comical effort, he goes to the door.) 

(Enter Ella, fantastically dressed, with open sun. hade. 
She minces across the stage.) 

Sin. My lublj' letters, true as I 'm alive ! Golly ! 
and missie gone ! What a streak o' luck for dis yere 
nig ! Sit down, sit down, MisS Lubliness. Take a 
chair. (A little confusion about getting her seated ensues, 
he pulling out the chair just as she is read'/ to sit davn.) 
I beg ten thousand pardons. I is flustered wid de honor 
and de deiigiit. 

Ella {with sweetest smile). 0, now, Mr. Sin! 
don't yer say de single word ob depology. I knows 
yer to be de gentleman ob de fust degree. Dis is de 
most mag-ne-iish-e-aiit day. Don't yer think so, Mr. 
Sin ? ( Fanning herself coquettishly. ) 

Sin (with gallant bow). Charming, kase yer come 
wid it, lubly one. 

Ella. O, now, Mr. Sin, I'm sure I can return the 



CINDERELLA. 151 

complaint. You is de perlightcst young gentleman in 
de hull town. Don't yer find it perticually dull in dese 
yer parts? Dere 's no confusenients, no balls, no, not 
even de free refreshingnients, sueli as we are used to in 
de city. 0, Mr. Sin, I is sometimes near pining away 
wid homesickness. (She leans back and fans herself 
vigorously.) 

Sin. O, Miss Lubliness, don't yer gwine for to do 
dat — don't yer now. 

Ella {peeping over her fan languishingly) . And why 
shouldn't I now, Mister Sin? Who 's gwine for to 
care r 

Sin. Dis yere poor nig would break his heart right 
straight off. 

Ell i. La, now, Mr. Sin, would yer tre-ully? 

Sin. In course I would. • How do yer like at Miss 
Pry's? 

Ella. Xot much. She ain't right fust quality like 
3'er missis. She lias de poor buekra way ob hiding de 
refreshingnients ! Seems to me there 's a charming fra- 
grance here, like — new cake. 0, Mr. Sin, I does lab 
new cake ! (Clasjis her hands and rolls her eyes.) 

Sin {patting her hand). Does yer, honey? Well, 
now, you shall hab some dat 's jes' as sweet — as your 
lubly lips. {Aside.) Golly! de minister was de spe- 
cial providence, dis time, shore. {He bustles around, 
brings out Mus. Baxgtow^n's cake, and sets it on the 
table.) 

EHa {clasps her hands gleefully). 0, dat is too 
delightful, Mr. Sin. I '11 help myself; yes, O, yes, I '11 
help myself. Dis does seem like living in de old 
style. 



152 CINDERELLA. 

Sin (aside). I hope she won't eat more'n two 
pieces. Missie won't miss clem, shore. 

Ella (eats and talks with her mouth fall). Sich 
de-lish-e-ous cake ! Mr. Sin, your boardin'-place is de 
fust quality, shore. Do hab anudder piece, Mr. Sin. 
(Helps herself again. Sin pulls his from his pocket, and 
eats also, eyeing the decreasing plate of cake ivith visible 
consternation.) Dere 's nothing does seem to set me 
up like de fust quality cake, 'cept de home-made wine. 
Does 3'er folks make wine, Sin? 

Sin. Bress my heart, how onforgetful dis nig amj 
(He runs and brings the minister's bottle and some 
glasses, imping the latter with his handkerchief. They 
drink and eat, sitting close together.) 

Ella. I must sa}-, you do make the most delecteable 
refreshingments here, Mr. Sin. I '11 come — 

Mrs. B. (without). Come right in, Miss Piy. I'll 
giye you a piece of the cake before supper-time, and a 
mince pie, just to let you see if they are good for any- 
thing. 

Sin (leaping up). Golly, goll}-, now we'll catch 
it. (He flies to one door, Ella seizes her parasol and 
rushes to the other.) 

Ella. De mass}^ sakes ! Miss Pry told me not to 
stay a minute at de store ! 

(Mr. Baxgtown opens one door, his wife and Miss 
Pry tjie other. The two culprits stand in delected confu- 
sion.) 

Mr. E. Hallo , hallo ! what 's all this ? 

Mrs. B. (rushing at Six, holding him by one ear). 
f*, }^ou villain ! O, my cake, my wine ! The last bottle 
/ f my elderberry wine ! And the minister coming ! 



CINDEEELLA. 153 

Miss Pry (seizes Ella in same fashion). You are 
the cause of all this mischief! And haven't I been 
waiting for you all this time ? 

(A loud, double knock. All exclaim,) The minister 

is come ! 

[Curtain falls. 



Act II. — The Whole Word in Pantomime, Cinderella. 
Scene I. — Curtain rises on Tableau. 

Cinderella by fireplace, at left of the stage. Blonde 
sister at right of centre, a little nearer than Cinder- 
ella ; brunette sister at right of blonde, just near 
enough for dresses to touch ; Mother next to Brunette, 
a little in front, standing sidewise, and holding orna- 
ment against her dress. Both sisters looking vain and 
haughty. « 

Cinderella sits by the fireplace in dust-colored 
dress, with hands clasped dejectedly over her knee, 
head drooping, e^ves downcast. A pumpkin lies on the 
floor behind her. After a moment's tableau, the mother 
slowly drops the arm holding ornament, and turning to 
Cinderella, motions towards the door. She rises, 
steps to the door, and returns with a jewel casket, which 
she holds, kneeling down on one knee beside the 
mother, and in front of the two girls, while the mother 
fastens some jewelled ornaments in brunette's hair. 

The latter turns to the mirror, which should hang 
just behind them, and nods approval of the effect. Then 
the other sister holds out an arm for Cinderella to 
clasp a bracelet there, while mother is busy fastening a 
flounce of her dress with a flower spray. Poor Cinder- 



154 CINDERELLA. 

ella clasps it awkwardly, and the beauty unceremoni- 
ously boxes her ears. Cinderella retreats, weeping. 
Mother brings her back, and gives her a pincushion to 
hold. When the decoration is accomplished, Cinder- 
ella retreats to the fireplace and takes up her first 
attitude of dejection. The mother stands at the ex- 
treme right, hands folded, and the two beauties parade 
up and down before her. She nods her satisfaction 
with the blonde and frowns upon the brunette, and 
steps forward, tossing her head, to show her how to 
assume a more haughty appearance. Then all three 
pass out. 

Cinderella rises and paces to and fro dejectedly, 
every now and then wiping her C}-es with the corner of 
her apron. She finally sinks into a chair placed about 
the centre of the stage, drops her head forward to 
her clasped hands, and is lost in grief. 

The fairy godmother — who is a small boy, dressed 
in quaint old- woman style, with cap and glasses — comes 
noiselessly from behind some place of concealment, and 
touches Cinderella with her wand. Cinderella lifts her 
head languidly but springs to her feet when she sees her 
visitor. The fairy godmother makes a few gestures, 
looking eagerly into Cinderella's face. The latter 
smiles ; the godmother points towards the pumpkin, 
and Cinderella claps her hands and looks unspeakable 
delight. 

Another pumpkin, with glass door and windows, 
with mice for coachman and postilion, and wooden or 
woollen rats harnessed to it, may be concealed under 
the table, or beneath a cloth, and be brought forward, 
when Cinderella will stand before it with smiling face, 



CINDERELLA. 155 

hands crossed childishly, and the godmother lifts over 
it her transforming wand. 

(Tableau.) 

[Curtain falls. 



Scene Second. — Curtain rises on same scene and empty 
stage. Clock striking twelve. 

Cinderella rushes in, glass slipper in her hand. She 
drops into her seat by the fireplace, and seems asleep, 
when mother and daughters in their wrappings come in 
from the ball. They rouse her to take their shawls, and 
she goes out with the clothing, obtaining time for a 
change of dress. 

A knock comes from the opposite door. 

Mother opens to page in glittering dress, who brings 
a gold-edged proclamation of the prince, his master. 

Mother and daughters gather around him to read it. 
They look delighted, and glance down towards their 
feet. Page hangs up the proclamation, points to it 
again, bows, and makes his exit. 

Audience can see the words " Glass Slipper ! " 
" Prince's reward ! " etc., on the parchment. 

When the page is gone, the mother brings out band- 
ages and proceeds to compress the girls' feet. They 
give evident signs of distress, but she points encourag- 
ingly to the proclamation. 

When it is done (some little time should be taken by 
it, to give Cinderella time to dress in her fine array), the 
retinue of the prince enter, a boy with a gold trumpet 
to his lips preceding them, the prince coming last. 



156 CINDEEELLA. 

The ladies all bow obsequiously in answer to his salu- 
tation. The prince takes his position at the extreme 
left. He takes out the glass slipper, kisses it, and 
gives it to page, who hands it to the mother. She pro- 
ceeds to put it on, showing by her gestures the diffi- 
culty of the task, while the daughter bites her lips to 
suppress her cry of pain. The attempt is hopeless. 
The girl hides her face, and the mother proceeds to the 
blonde. That effort also fails, when the mother, with a 
grim look, produces a knife. But the page steps for- 
ward, shaking his head, and takes the slipper from her. 
Here Cinderella, wrapped in a long water-proof, steals 
in meekly to her seat b}~ the fireplace. The page points 
to her, and by gestures inquires if she shall not try the 
slipper. Mother shakes her head, with looks of dis- 
dain. 

But the prince nods approval, and the page goes with 
the slipper to Cinderella. It fits, and she draws forth 
the mate. The prince, seeing it, rushes towards her, 
but the fairy godmother suddenly starts up between, 
with upraised wand. She touches Cinderella with the 
wand, the water-proof drops. Cinderella, elegantly 
dressed, is led forward by the prince to front centre of 
stage. Others, group around, the mother and daughter 
showing their discomfiture in their faces. 

[Curtain falls. 



ELOCUTION. 



A CHARADE OF FOUR SYLLABLES. 



CHARACTERS. 

Aunt Jerusha Spriggins. 

Seraphixa Jane, her Niece. 

Count Gingersnaps. 

A French Waiter. 

Adele, a Femme de Chambre. 

A French Shopman. 

Chum Fatee, a Chinaman. 

Prof. Julius Cesar Bouncebus. 

Haifa dozen Pupils, Boys and Girls. 

First Syllable, Ell. 
Scene. — Aunt Jerusha perambulating ivhat is meant 
for a retired street of Paris. Shopman, dressed fop- 
pishly, looking from behind a table, or the best represen- 
tation actors choose to provide, of a shop door, ivindow, 
or counter. 

Aunt Jerusha (spelling and repeating, once or twice). 
R-u-b-a-n. V-e-r-t. Fifty-six inches make one French 
ell. (She takes out handkerchief, and draws a long 
breath, then goes on.) I don't wonder I feel dizzy and 
scared. Only to think ! Here I am, in this heathenish 
Babel, where the men all act like jabbering monkeys, 
and the women look like dolls, tricked out in laces and 



158 ELOCUTION. 

gewgaws ! Only to think ! Jerusha Spriggins, all 
this way from home, with that dreadful great ocean a- 
rolling between her and Innocent Valley, Goffstown, in 
the State of New Hampshire, United States of America, 
E. Pluribus Unum. It 's enough* to scare anybody to 
think of it ! How ever did I let thatsmJHS^mphiny^ 
Jane persuade me into such a tremendous step ? Heigh- 
ho ! Well, I must make the best of it now. M} r 
money 's all stitched tight in my belt, and I 've got the 
best of CaA^enne in my snuff-box. Let any imperdent 
Frenchman try to rob me, or play any jokes upon me, 
won't his eyes catch the pepper? It's a good deal 
safer weapon than a pistol. Snuff don't go off only 
when j^ou send it. Yes ; I 'm e'enamost crazy with the j 
jabbering here, and I not making out a word of the 
meaning. These French folks twist, and shake, and 
wriggle till it scares all the sense I have out of me. 
But I 'm going to be smart this time. I 've been say- 
ing over that word all the way, just as Seraphiny told 
me. R-u-b-a-n. What an outlandish name for ribbon ! 
AndV-e-r-t; that's green. Highty-tighty ! what ninnies 
these French are ! How are yoa going to make any- 
thing but gr-ee-n spell green? Well, I '11 get my greeii> 
ribbon all alone, sure ! Seraphiny need n't think I can't 
do anything alone, if I am in Paris instead of Goffsr- 
town ! And here 's a shop, and I guess themHboxes 
hold ribbons. (She stops at the improvised shop, and 
the attendant comes out, bowing, and profuse with ges- 
tionis. Aunt jEPa;siiA/a^tf back and stares at him.) 

Shopman. Bon jour, madame. Ruban a bon marche, 
ma dame. 



ELOCUTION. 159 

Aunt J. (starts, holds up her hands, and says, in- 
audible aside), O, mass}^, the heathen! Do hear him 
swearing at me the first thins: • But I ain't going to 
be scared. I 'II have my green ribbon. 

(Shopman rattles off an incoherent jumble of French.) 

Aunt J. 0, goodness me ! do hear the man's tongue 
run ! "What can he be saying ? AVhat shall I do ? 
What was it I wanted? — (To him.) Yes, sir; yes, 

sir. Some green ribbon, if you please. 

(Shopman, in his turn, stares and goes into another 
jumble of French, approachinj her as she edges away, 
She dives her hand into her pocket, and gets the snuff- 
box read'/, then suddenly claps her hands crying out) — 

O, I 've got it ! I 've got it ! Ruban. Vert ruban ! 
Give me some vert ruban. 

Shopyman (boiving and flourishing). Je ne cherche 
qu'un, madame. 

Aunt J. What 's he mean by that, now ? Goodness 
me ! I shall never get my ribbon ! (She stejis up and 
shouts.) Vert ruban! I want vert ruban ! Green rib- 
bon, you ninny ! 

S r icpman. Ah, madame, no parley voux Frangais. 
Madame English, American. Pardonez ! Je ne cherche 
qu'un. (lie takes vp a box from the, counter, opening 

u.) 

Aunt J. (pouncing upon it). There, there ! That's 
it ! Some of that. 

Shopman. (By ho'ding up two or three colors, and a 
comical pantomime, a mutual understanding is effected. 



160 ELOCUTION. 

Holding out the ribbon to measure he asks.} Un deux, 
troix ? 

Aunt J. O, my ! here's another trouble. It was 
fifty-six inches I wanted, to go round my cap, and make 
a good smart bow and ends. I looked it out, and it 
was jest one of their measures. Now, what was it ? I 
said I could remember by one of the letters in the 
Primer. But which one? Was it A? No. B? No. 
O, dear ! now what am I going to do? How Seraphiny 
will laugh at me ! I wish I was at home in Goffstown. 
And that 's what Julius Caesar Bouncebus told me I 
should do. Julius Caesar 's a nephew to be proud of. 
He 's Professor of Blowemup and Sliowemoff Academy 
— he is. If he was here, how quick he' d make this 
jackanapes know what I want ! — (To Shopman, hold- 
ing up two fingers.) Here, give me two somethings. 
What 's 3"our French for yards ? Two, I say. 

Shopman {begins to measure, muttering). II a le 
diable ! 

Aunt J. (joyfully). That's it! That's it! You 
do know a little something ! I want an ell ; now I 
remember. L is a letter, and fifty-six inches make one 
French ell. 

Shopman. Un ell, madame? Oui. 

(lie is measuring ivhen she springs forward and snatches 
the ribbon.) 

Aunt J. That ain't a good yard ; I know it ain't. I 
can measure a yard myself just as true. (She tries it 
by her arm extended, the ribbon held to her nose.) 

Enter Seraphina Jaxe, a pretty young girl. 

Seraphina. Why, Aunt Jerusha, what's the mat- 



ELOCUTION. 161 

ter ? You 've been gone so long, I was afraid 3-011 'd 
lost your wa3~. 

Aunt F. {assuming a nonchalant air). 0, have 
3'ou come, Seraphiny Jane? You needn't have trou- 
bled yourself. I 've been buying 1113* green ribbon, and 
was looking out not to be cheated in the measure. I 
told you I should n't have any trouble. There ! (Ex- 
tending her hand to Shopman, with coin on the palm.) 
Take 3-our pa}' out of these silly little francs I'd 
rather have an honest ninepence myself. Come, Sera- 
phiny. Good-b}', monsieur. 

\_Curtain falls. 

{Actors can form a tableau as it falls.) 



Second Syllable, O. 
Scene. — Aunt Jerusha sitting down to a table with 
tray before her; bill of fare beside her plate, and 
Waiter behind her chair. 

She looks round at him, sniffs disdainfully, and 
moves back her chair, so that he is obliged to step far- 
ther back. Then she turns back, takes up the bill of 
fare, runs it down carefully, as if understanding every 
word, puts her ringer on a place, and hands it to him, 
nodding and pointing to the door. He also, in panto- 
mime, expresses his comprehension of her desires, and 
goes out, shortly returning with a covered dish, napkin, 
etc., placing it carefully before her, while she stretches 
herself back, as if afraid of contamination. He en- 
deavors to assist her in fixing the napkin, but she slaps 
him smartly with her fan, and he retreats, shaking his 
fist at her behind the chair. She uncovers the dish, 



162 ELOCUTION. 

dips in her spoon, and tastes, making a distressful face. 
Then exploring cautiously with her spoon, she brings 
up — a frog ! She makes a furious gesture towards the 
Waiter, springs from the table, and cries, u O ! " 

[Curtain falls on tableau. 



Third Syllable, Cue. 

Aunt Jerusha and Seraphina Jane sitting doivn, one 
with hutting, the other a book or fancy work. The 
Count Gingersnaps finely dressed, flowers at his but- 
ton-hole, stands behind Serarhina's chair. 

Aunt J. There, I Ve told you all about it ! And 
shan't I be thankful to sit down again to a good Chris- 
tian table ? And if the victuals were what they ought 
to be, how can a body eat, with one of them twisting 
eels of Frenchmen standing behind your back every 
minute. If you must have foreign folks, there are the 
Chinese. Seraphiny Jane, I don't believe you're half 
as sensible as Julius Caesar, your brother, or you 
would n't be so carried away with this horrid Paris. It 
is that I don't understand either. It 's this horrid 
Count Gingersnaps that you're token up with. I 
should n't Avonder if all the count there is truly about 
him is his counting on getting hold of some of my 
money through you. But I can tell you, the wonderful 
streak o' luck that turned. pa's old pasture into an oil 
well ain't a going to help any parleyvousing French- 
man. I call the Chinese, now, sensible foreigners. 
I 've got real interested in one over here ; and I 've a 



ELOCUTION. 163 

mind to hire him to take us to China. I was always 
interested in that place. Why, Seraphiny, don't you 
know if you bore a hole in the ground at Goffstown, 
and get down far enough, you '11 come out into China, 
like young Whopper, as like as not, flying right among 
the Chinamen? Just think what nice cups of tea we 'd 
get ! I 'd bring back a whole trunkful, and lots of 
curiosities for Julius Caesar. I've sent for the little 
Chinaman to come and talk about it. You don't have 
to parley yous with him. He takes all the trouble in 
making you understand. I guess we '11 go with him to 
China. 

{The Count shrugs his shoulders, and makes a displeased 
gesture.) 

What 's the matter, Count ? The rheumatism troubles 
you — does it? I say, Seraphiny, what are }'ou making 
such a face for ? 

Seraphina. I don't want to go to China, Aunt Jeru- 
sha. It's ten times worse than Paris. I 're read such 
horrid things ! 

Aunt J. I 'd like to know what you 've read. They 
don't give decent folks frogs to eat? Shame on you, 
Seraphiny Jane ! you 're a making motions to this Gin- 
gersnappy Frenchman against your aunt. Now tell me 
what they do in China. 

Seraphina (pouting). They stew puppies and roast 
cats, anyway, and — and — they'll squeeze your feet 
into iron shoes no bigger than a baby's, the minute 
you get there. That 's one of the laws of the country. 

Aunt J. Hush your nonsense ! Here comes the 
dear little Chinaman. Now he 's what I call a nice- 
6 



164 ELOCUTION. 

looking foreigner. I 'm going to have him wait on me, 
instead of this impudent gar f on. 

Enter Chinaman, bowing low and presenting a box, or 
teapoy, or fan, to Aunt Jerusha. 

{Triumphantly.) There, now! that's what I call 
civility. How clean and neat he looks ! I told him to 
bring me some chicken broth a la Chinese. — (T) China- 
man.) You 're a nice little fellow. How do }^ou do ? 

Chum Fatee. Me muchee pleased ; too muchee 
pleased. Muchee great mistress. Me Chum Fatee. 

Seraphina. Muchee lean, I should say. Horrid 
creature ! He will persuade her to drag me off to 
China. Count, dear count, do say something in remon- 
strance. 

Count. Madame, listen, I beg ! I implore ! Be not 
imposed upon. Pardonez ! My friendship prompts. 

Aunt J. Bah ! I shan't be imposed upon by French- 
men. Chum Fatee, my good boy, you ma}' bring me 
the chicken broth. 

{The Count touches Seraphina's arm. They retreat a 
little behind Aunt Jerusha, but in sight of audience, 
and exchange ichispers. Serapihna claps her hands 
noiselessly, pointing to Chum Fatee's cue. As the 
Chinaman goes out, the Count follows, knife in hand, 
and, just before Chum Fatee disappears, he severs the 
cue, holds it up a moment, triumphantly, to SERAriiiNA, 
then hides it under his arm. When Chum Fatee 
returns with a covered dish, the Count again intercepts 
him, lifting the cover, and dropping in the cue. Aunt 
Jerusha sits down with a smiling face, while Chum 



ELOCUTION. 165 

Fatee sets the dish on the table. They all group 
around, watching as she lifts the cover. She raises 
something with her fork , her face betraying growing 
consternation, and gives a cry.) 

Chum Fatee {suddenly yells, clapping his hands to his 
despoiled head; wringing his hands, he cries.) Muchee 
wicked place ! Poor Chum Fatee no cue ! 

\_Curtain falls on the tableau. 



Fourth Syllable, Shun. 
Scene . — Aunt Jerusha dressed for a walk* The French 
maid Adele waiting before her. Serapiiina, visible 
to audience, peeping in. 

Aunt J. Now you understand — don't you, Adele ? 
You know more than the rest of 'em, beca*use you stud- 
ied English, I suppose. 

Adele. Yes, madame, I understand. Qui, madame, 
I comprehend. Mademoiselle must shun the count. 

Aunt J. That's it! 4i Shun evil." That was the 
first good old maxim I learned by heart. Now, while 
I am gone to the consul's to see about getting off from 
Paris, do you make it your business to see that my 
niece, Seraphiny Jane, shuns evil : that is, shuns the 
count. I shall give you a fine present, besides the 
extra wages, if you are a good girl. 

{Here Seraphina shakes a threatening finger, nods 
energetically, and disappears. Aunt Jerusha picks 
up her reticule, handkerchief, etc., but forgets her 
parasoL) 



166 ELOCUTION 

Well, I 'm a going now. Mind you keep sharp look- 
out. Good-by, Adele. 

Adele. Adieu. Au revoir, rnadame. 

(As soon as Aunt Jerusha has gone, Adele runs to the 
table, takes up a dictionary, and turns over the leaves, 
muttering, in a puzzled tone, — ) 

" Shun, shun ! " Je ne sais quoi. Shun the count ! 
Shun? 

Seraphina (saunters in humming a tune) . Ah, Adele, 
what ? s the matter ? Puzzling over English ? Let me 
help you. 

Adele (brightening and courtesying) . If mademoi- 
selle will be so good. One leetle word, mademoiselle. 
What means in English shun f 

Seraphina. " Sun? " Soliel, Adele. The sun, you 
know. 

Adele (still puzzled). And sun means — 

Seraphina (looking arch and playing with her rib- 
bons). Why, the sun is warm, bright, ardent. 

Adele. Ah, ciel ! Ardent. I know ardent. It must 
refer to love. To shun one, is to love. How natural ! 

Seraphina (smiling, but looking down bashfully) . Yes, 
that is true. Ah, Adele ! 

Adele. Thanks, mademoiselle. (Adele goes to the 
door, rubbing her hands together.) I'm so pleased! 
Mademoiselle must shun the count. Oui, out. I see ! 
Mademoiselle must love the count. 

The Count enters. Adele smiles and nods to him, 
waving her hand towards Seraphina. Aunt Jerusha 



ELOCUTION. 167 

rushes in for the forgotten parasol, and finds the Count 
bending over Seraphina, Adele looking on smilingly,) 

Aunt J. {rushing upon Adele). O, perfidious 
wretch ! Is this the way you obej' my orders ? There 's 
no trusting these French folks ! Not one ! No, not 
one of 'em ! 

Adele {frantically flourishing her handkerchief). 
Madame, madame ! Shun the count ! Love the count ! 
It is done ! 

Seraphina {entreatinghj). Yes, dear aunt, believe 
me, Adele' s is the wisest and best interpretation. 

Count {earnestly). Hear us, dear madame. Be- 
lieve that I am honest and true — 

Aunt J. {looking first at one and then the other, and 
finally giving a hand to each). Well, well, I don't 
know as I can set nrrself against nature. We '11 see, 
we '11 see ! But you must promise to live in GofTstown, 
and not try Adele' s way of shunning Paris. 

[Curtain falls on the tableau. 



The Whole Word, Elocution. 

Scene. — Prof. Julius Cjesar Bouncebus, practising 
his class, rod in hand. The Professor got up in as 
antiquated style as possible. 

Prof. Once more : the first vowel. 
Class in unison. A- A- A- A- A. 

Care, far, last, fall, what. 
Prof. Excellent ! I could n't have done it better 
myself. This is a very promising class. I am sure 



168 ELOCUTION. 

3'ou will, at the coming exhibition, cover yourselves 
with gloiy, as well as reflect no small degree upon }~our 
humble, but — though I myself say it — persevering 
and deserving teacher, Prof. Julius Caesar Bouncebus. 
(To a boy icho is pulling mischievously at his girl-neigh- 
bor's curls.) Take care, young gentleman! — And 
next we will try a few sentences. {He dictates, and 
class repeats, some such familiar and forcible quotation 
as, " And dar'st thou, then, to beard the lion in his den 
— the Douglass in his hall?" (In the midst of the reci- 
tation there is a violent knock at the door, and Aunt 
Jerusha, arms full, followed by boy with bundles, and 
Seraphina on the Count's arm, rushes in and seizes 
upon his hands ) 

Aunt J. O, m}' beloved nephew ! My dear, dear 
Julius Caesar Bouncebus! We are safe home again, 
after all our perils. " Our feet are on our native 
shore." And }'ou are safe and well too? You are, 
now; say }'Ou are! And O, we've so much to tell 
you! Such horrid actions as we have seen! Frog 
soup ! pig-tail stews ! 0, dear, I can't tell it all now ! 
I'm all out of breath. But I've brought }~ou lots 
of curiosities; and — O, m}' ! a new brother! Sera- 
phiny, why don't 3*011 introduce the count ? I did n't 
like him at first, but I do now. O, I'm so glad to be 
home again! (They all shake hands again.) And 
now, Julius, do tell us what you 've been doing. We 
were surprised to find you had left the Academ}'. 
What made you change? 

Prof. 0, well, my dear aunt, don't you know true 
genius can't stay down ? The Faculty did n't appreci- 
ate me, nor quite approve my system. So when they 



ELOCUTION. 169 

asked me to resign, I concluded I would. And I 've 
bettered myself! I've found my true sphere, and it 
paj's. Why, I've been put in the Goflstown Chronicle, 
and called a rising man. Think of that, Aunt Jerusha, 
for your nephew ! There 's for you ! 

Aunt J. Why, now, you don't say, Julius ! But 
what are you, though? 

Pr(>f. Why, I'm still a Professor of one brilliant 
department. I am Professor of — {turning to audience) 
perhaps some of these attentive people can answer for 
me. 

[Curtain falls. 




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